OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  AHGELES 


THE  RED  RUNNERS 


"THEY 
T 

THKOUQH  THE 

O^>TET 
FANE!' 


HARKINSON'S  LAST  VISIT 


THE 

RED    RUNNERS 


BY 

SECKATARY  HAWKINS 


•  rS 


Illustrations  by 
CABLL  B.  WILLIAMS 


CINCINNATI 

STEWART  KIDD  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1M8,  BY 
ROBERT  P.  SCHULKERS 

All  Rights  Reserved 


TO 

MY  OLD  TEACHER 
"ONE  FINE  FELLA" 


2130195 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

These  stories  appeared  originally  in  The  Cincinnati 
Enquirer.  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  the  pub- 
lishers of  that  newspaper  for  permission  to  reprint  them 
in  bookf orm. 

SECKATARY  HAWKINS. 


Contents 

Chapter 

I.  HOME  AGAIN. 

II.  A  BOXING  MATCH. 

III.  HAKKESTSON. 

IV.  THE  CAMP  ON  THE  ISLAND. 
V.  THE  WOODCHOPPERS. 

VI.  SINGING  BY  THE  CAMPFIRE. 

VII.  HAM  GAKDNER'S  TIP. 

VIII.  HAWKINS  AGAINST  HARKINSON. 

IX.  HAWKINS  DONS  THE  GLOVES. 

X.  THE  END  or  VACATION. 

XI.  LINK'S  FAREWELL  PARTY. 

XII.  THE  RED  RUNNERS. 

XIII.  THE  SILVER  CUP. 

XIV.  SHADOW  LOOMIS  JOINS. 
XV.  THE  CALL  or  A  NIGHTBIRD. 

XVI.  A  PAIR  OF  OWLS. 

XVII.  SEVENTH  IN  LINE. 

XVIII.  A  HALLOWE'EN  PHANTOM. 

XIX.  THE  FACE  IN  THE  DARK. 

XX.  THE  PELHAMS  IN  TROUBLE. 

XXI.  THE  CANARY. 

nii 


Pa«e 
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201 

212 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

XXII.  THE  HIDDEN  HOUSEBOAT.  222 

XXIII.  ANDROFSKI  THE  SILENT.  232 

XXIV.  SAVING  THE  SECRET.  242 
XXV.  LASKY  GOES  HOME.  251 

XXVI.  A  BAG  OF  TOYS.  263 

XXVII.  NEW  YEAR'S  EVE.  274 

XXVIII.  A  ROLLING  STONE.  284 

XXIX.  THE  TRAP  THAT  DIDN'T  WORK.  294 

XXX.  HARKINSON'S  LAST  VISIT.  305 

XXXI.  THE  PRAYER  IN  THE  LOG  HOUSE.  315 

XXXII.  THE  ROUNDUP.  3-26 


riv 


THE  RED  RUNNERS 


THE  RED  RUNNERS 


Home  Again 

HOME  again! 
Ah,  boy!  How  good  it  looked  to  me!  You 
fellows  who  have  never  been  a  thousand  miles 
away  from  home — you  don't  know  what  this  home- 
coming meant  to  me.  Here  was  the  old  river!  The  old 
trees,  the  old  bank,  the  old  hollow,  the  old  shack!  The 
morning  sun  of  midsummer  time  sifted  through  the 
softly  swaying  branches  and  fell  in  splotches  around  the 
place  I  stood  upon.  And  I  looked  across  the  river  to- 
ward Pelham,  still  sound  asleep  in  its  town  of  tumble- 
down houses,  and  then  my  mind  went  back  to  Cuba — 
Well,  there's  no  place  like  home,  be  it  ever  so  tumble- 
down, be  it  ever  so  humble.  I  had  arrived  home  the 
night  before,  too  late  to  see  any  of  the  boys,  and  my 
folks  were  so  glad  to  see  me  that  I  had  to  sit  up  until 
midnight  telling  them  of  all  our  experiences  in  Cuba, 
and  I  fell  asleep  at  last.  The  others  in  our  party  went 
to  Doc's  house  for  the  night.  But  early  in  the  morning 
I  opened  my  eyes.  At  once  I  felt  a  longing  to  see  the 
river  bank — the  old  hangout  place,  and  I  hurried  into 
my  clothes  and  sneaked  out  all  alone.  The  birds  were 
making  music  in  the  treetops  along  the  way,  and  I  felt 
as  happy  as  a  lark.  Soon,  I  said  to  myself,  I  shall  meet 
all  my  boys;  soon  we  shall  be  talking  together  in  our 
little  clubhouse.  Oh,  how  happy  it  made  me  feel  to 
know  that  I  was  back  here,  home  again! 

1 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

I  stood  on  that  little  hill  on  the  top  of  the  river 
bank  and  gazed  around  me;  it  all  looked  the  same  as  it 
had  before  I  left;  only  the  trees  were  fresh  green  again, 
the  rushes  had  grown  somewhat  out  into  the  shallow 
water,  and  the  cliffs  were  covered  more  this  year  with 
green  growth  than  I  had  ever  seen  them  in  my  lifetime. 
High  up  beyond  me  was  that  cliff  in  which  Stoner  used 
to  have  his  hiding  place;  beyond  that  rose  the  topmost 
peak  where  we  had  seen  his  signal  lights.  The  Pelhams 
had  a  new  wharf  built  on  their  side  of  the  river,  and  a 
dozen  smart-looking  canoes  were  upside  down  upon  it. 
Not  a  sign  of  any  living  thing  was  to  be  seen;  it  was 
sunrise,  and  I  was  back  home,  there  all  by  myself  wait- 
ing anxiously  until  I  could  shake  my  boys  by  the  hand 
again. 

I  chuckled  to  myself  as  I  thought  of  how  they  would 
greet  me,  and,  turning  back,  I  started  for  home,  hoping 
ma  would  have  breakfast  waiting.  As  I  turned  I  saw 
a  movement  in  the  bushes  that  lined  the  path.  I  stopped 
again  and  waited.  There  came  no  further  move  of  any 
kind,  or  any  sound.  I  started  on  again,  and,  as  I  did 
so,  the  bushes  parted  and  a  boy  stepped  out  in  front  of 
me.  He  was  new  to  me.  I  had  never  seen  his  face. 
But  I  liked  it  the  moment  my  eyes  fell  upon  it.  It  was 
a  bright-looking  face  and  a  regular  boyish  one,  with 
eyes  that  spoke  of  mischief.  He  barred  my  way  with 
outstretched  arms. 

"Wait  just  a  minute,  sir,"  he  said  in  a  commanding 
tone.  "What  are  you  doing  here?" 

I  could  not  help  laughing,  but  I  smothered  it  as 
much  as  I  could. 

"I'm  just  looking  around.  I  hope  I  haven't  been 
doing  something  that  you  do  not  like." 

He  looked  at  me  seriously  and  said: 
2 


HOME    AGAIN 

"If  you  haven't  a  good  reason  for  being  here  I'll 
have  to  order  you  off.  We  don't  allow  strangers  here." 

"Oh,  excuse  me,"  I  said  quickly.  "I'm  sure  I  didn't 
mean  to  intrude.  But  may  I  ask  who  you  mean  when 
you  say  'we'?" 

He  took  my  arm  and,  turning  half  around,  pointed 
down  into  the  hollow,  where  a  bright  new  flag  of  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  waved  above  a  rooftop,  almost  hidden 
in  the  treetops. 

"The  boys  who  hang  out  in  that  clubhouse,"  he 
said  in  a  very  serious  voice,  "run  this  whole  place. 
They  don't  leave  anybody  loaf  around.  And  I'm  over- 
seer of  it.  They  just  appointed  me.  You  see  that  flag?" 

"Yeah,"  I  said,  "it's  a  beauty.  I  bet  it  cost  four 
dollars." 

He  grunted. 

"It  cost  six,"  he  said,  "and  we've  got  the  whole 
porch  decorated  with  smaller  ones.  They  cost  a  quarter 
apiece.  We've  got  to  celebrate,  you  know?" 

"What  for?"  I  asked,  and  then,  "Oh,  yes,  it's  the 
Fourth  of  July  pretty  soon,  isn't  it?" 

He  gave  me  a  look  as  of  pity,  then  shook  his  head. 

"That's  not  it,"  he  said.  "We're  going  to  have 
company.  We  decorated  the  shack  and  everything, 
and  we've  got  fireworks,  too." 

"Is  that  so?"  I  exclaimed.  "Well,  I  think  I'll  go 
down  and  have  a  look  at  those  decorations." 

I  started  down  the  path,  but  he  grabbed  me. 

"Oh,  no  you  won't,"  he  said,  "not  while  I'm  over- 
seer. We  don't  allow  it.  You  just  take  yourself  away 
from  here  as  fast  as  you  can.  If  the  boys  catch  me  talk- 
ing to  you  friendly  like  they'll  think  I'm  in  with  the 
Pelham  fellows,  or  something." 

I  smiled  at  him,  but  he  kept  a  serious  face. 
3 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"May  I  ask  your  name?"  I  asked. 

He  pointed  up  the  path. 

"Git,"  he  said,  "as  fast  as  those  fat  legs  of  your'n 
will  take  you." 

I  said  no  more,  but  went  up  the  path.  I  had  to 
chuckle  to  myself,  however,  as  I  went,  and  when  I  got 
home  mother  was  waiting  with  battercakes  and  'lasses 
for  breakfast. 

Oh,  gee,  boys,  it's  great  to  be  back  home — and 
summertime,  too,  vacation  and  everything. 

It  was  about  10  o'clock  when  I  went  back  down  the 
path  toward  the  river.  When  I  reached  the  woodland 
I  heard  a  very  familiar  sound — the  music  of  the  old 
organ  that  used  to  be  Lew  Hunter's  favorite  pastime  in 
our  old  houseboat  headquarters.  And  I  could  hear  the 
voices  of  several  boys  singing,  and  I  knew  that  Lew 
Hunter  still  had  his  boys  in  training,  and  that  singing 
practice  was  one  of  the  daily  duties.  How  sweet  those 
voices  sounded!  I  could  not  recognize  them;  there 
were  several,  some  singing  soprano  and  others  alto, 
while  Lew's  rich  tenor  rose  above  them  all.  The  words 
of  the  song  they  were  singing  came  to  me  clearly: 

"The  mists  of  the  morning  are  rolling  away, 
The  stars  quickly  fade  at  the  coming  day; 
The  foam  of  the  billows  already  I  see, 
And  there  lies  my  bark  still  in  waiting  for  me." 

Ah,  boy,  how  it  sounded  to  me,  just  home  again  after 
a  seven-months'  absence,  fifteen-hundred  miles  away.  I 
reached  the  path  to  the  clubhouse  unseen.  And  there 
I  stopped  and  looked  down  at  the  clubhouse.  It  was 
my  first  look  in  seven  months.  How  pretty  it  was! 
The  porch  had  been  extended  around  the  little  shack, 

4 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

and  the  whole  building  had  been  newly  painted,  the  body 
green,  the  trimmings  white,  and  the  trees  and  bushes 
that  clustered  about  it  seemed  to  love  the  little  place 
as  much  as  I  loved  it  myself.  The  clubhouse  was  gay 
with  little  flags,  while  from  a  high  pole,  rising  from  the 
porch  above  the  door,  there  floated  a  big  silk  banner, 
the  greatest  emblem  in  the  world — the  Stars  and  Stripes. 
I  took  off  my  hat  and  waited  until  the  singing  ended. 

Then  I  slowly  walked  down  to  the  steps  of  the  porch. 
There  was  not  a  soul  in  sight.  Lew  certainly  had  them 
all  well  trained  in  the  matter  of  singing  practice.  I 
walked  up  the  steps  slowly  and  shoved  gently  on  the 
door. 

"Hi,  fellas,"  I  said  in  a  low  voice. 

They  all  turned  as  if  they  had  been  frightened.  I 
saw  a  bunch  of  happy  faces  looking  at  me — my  old 
faces  of  my  old  boys,  and,  you  can  believe  this  or  not, 
I  had  tears  in  my  eyes  as  I  stood  there  and  held  out 
ray  hand  to  them.  They  stared  at  me  for  fully  a  minute, 
I  believe,  and  then  one  of  them  shouted: 

"Hawkins!"  And  he  came  running  over  to  me. 
It  was  Jerry  Moore,  great  big,  old  Jerry  Moore,  with  a 
tan,  freckled  face,  and  stub  nose;  yeah,  he  came  and 
grabbed  me  by  my  shoulders,  and  the  others  yelled,  too, 
and  came  to  me.  They  almost  bowled  me  over  with 
their  weight. 

"Git  back  there,"  yelled  Jerry,  in  his  old-time  way. 
"Git  back  there,  Bill  Darby;  give  the  Seckatary  air. 
What  you  mean  by  acting  that-a  way?" 

But  I  silenced  Jerry,  and  shook  them  all  by  the  hand. 
Dick  Ferris,  still  the  Captain,  demanded  the  right  to 
sit  next  to  me.  Lew  Hunter  came  up,  after  all  the  others 
had  had  their  say,  and  took  my  hand  and  wrung  it 
warmly. 

6 


HOME    AGAIN 

"Dear  old  pal,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "just  been 
thinking  you  had  passed  us  up.  But  I  knew  you  would 
come.  Some  of  the  boys  said  they  thought  you  would 
not  want  to  have  any  more  to  do  with  the  club  when 
you  got  back.  But  I  said  you  would." 

"You  know  me,  Lew,"  I  said.  "It's  me  for  this 
bunch  of  fellows  as  long  as  I  can  stick.  Say,  I  wouldn't 
give  up  this  clubhouse  full  of  boys  for  anything  I  saw 
all  the  way  to  Cuba  and  back  again." 

Then  I  went  from  one  to  the  other  and  talked  a 
little  with  each.  Bill  Darby  was  sore  at  Jerry  for 
"bawling  him  out"  when  I  came  in,  and  still  wanted 
me  to  referee  a  fight  between  him  and  Jerry  to  settle  it. 
But  I  settled  it  with  a  few  soothing  words  in  Bill's  ear 
about  a  ball  game  we  would  have  that  afternoon.  Johnny 
McLarren  and  Roy  Dobel  followed  me  around  every- 
where I  went,  and  listened  to  every  word  I  said  to 
everybody  else.  In  fact,  I  couldn't  be  at  rest  a  minute 
before  some  one  of  them  would  be  firing  questions  at 
me  faster  than  I  could  meet  them. 

But  presently  there  came  something  to  put  an  end 
to  it,  in  the  way  of  a  noise  out  on  the  porch,  and  before 
anyone  could  rush  to  see  who  it  was,  the  door  was  flung 
open  and  a  boy  stood  there.  He  was  a  tall,  good-looking 
boy.  At  first  I  did  not  recognize  him.  But  at  the 
second  look  I  knew  him. 

"It's  Link!"  I  yelled. 

"Not  if  I  know  him,"  said  Jerry  Moore. 

But  in  came  Link,  the  old  Skinny  Guy  of  other  days, 
smiling  and  holding  his  hands  out.  The  boys  went  up 
to  him  slowly,  but  when  he  said  "Hi,  fellas,"  they  knew 
that  voice.  But  what  was  it  that  made  him  look  so  differ- 
ent? Of  course  he  had  new  clothes.  They  were  bought 
for  him  in  Jacksonville,  by  Doc  Waters  and  Link's 

7 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

daddy.  But  there  was  something  else  about  him  that 
puzzled  me,  but — ah,  yes,  now  I  knew  what  it  was:  Link 
had  had  his  hair  cut! 

He  was  a  different  boy.  Still  as  skinny  as  ever, 
but  with  a  different  expression  in  his  eyes,  my  Skinny 
Guy  was  no  longer  the  same  raggedy,  barefoot,  tangle- 
haired  youth  that  I  had  met  one  December  morning 
swiping  lumber  from  our  side  of  the  river  to  build  tree 
houses  for  the  Pelhams.  No,  no!  Link  Lambert  had 
changed.  He  had  grown  taller.  He  wore  decent  clothes, 
and — to  top  it  off  as  the  greatest  wonder  of  the  world 
— he  had  had  his  long,  straggling  locks  cut. 

"Well,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  watched  the  boys 
clustering  around  him  with  greetings  and  laughter, 
"the  trip  to  Cuba  did  some  good  for  Link,  any- 
how." 

Dick  Ferris  and  Lew  Hunter  separated  themselves 
from  the  crowd  and  came  over  to  me.  "Hawkins," 
said  Link,  "we  have  something  to  show  you.  Come 
with  us." 

I  followed  them  to  the  rear  beyond  the  table  and 
chairs  of  the  meeting  room,  where  a  curtain  hung.  I  had 
not  noticed  this  when  I  came  in.  It  had  not  been  there 
when  I  left.  It  was  new  to  me.  They  drew  back  the 
curtain  and  said  "Step  in." 

I  stepped  into  a  new  room  that  had  been  built  to 
the  clubhouse.  It  was  a  pretty  little  place,  with  two 
windows  and  a  rear  door,  a  couple  of  chairs  on  each 
side,  a  small  table  with  a  little  lamp  with  a  green  shade, 
and  an  oak  writing  desk. 

"Well,  of  all  things,"  I  said.  "You  boys  have  been 
improving  the  clubhouse  since  I've  been  gone.  This  is 
fine,  sure." 

8 


HOME    AGAIN 

They  both  were  smiling,  well  pleased. 

"It's  for  you,"  said  Dick. 

"For  me?"  I  repeated  in  surprise.  "You  made  this 
room  for  me?'* 

They  nodded. 

"Yes,"  said  Lew  Hunter,  "this  is  the  Seckatary's 
writing  room.  And  we  made  up  our  minds  before  you 
came  back  that  we  wouldn't  have  any  other  fella  for 
seckatary  but  you." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "thanks.  That's  nice,  even  if  you 
didn't  ask  me  about  it.  But  say,  this  is  fine.  I'll  feel 
like  writing  some  things  in  here,  boys." 

Now  weren't  they  the  real  kind  of  boys  a  fellow 
likes  to  chum  with,  and  do  anything  for  that  he 
is  able  to  do?  I  sat  down  at  the  little  desk  they 
had  put  there  for  me,  and  smiled  as  I  saw  the  many 
little  cards,  with  verses  and  little  notes,  welcoming  me 
back,  and  wishing  me  luck,  and  I  dropped  my  chin  in 
my  hands  and  fell  to  thinking.  They  both  skipped 
out  quietly  and  allowed  the  curtain  to  fall  back  into 
place.  What  a  fine  bunch  of  boys,  thought  I,  and  how 
glad  I  am  to  be  back  with  them  instead  of  being  with 
those  Rafaels  and  Montillas  and  Gabriels  and  other 
revolutionists  in  that  island  far  away.  I  imagine  that 
the  boys  thought  they  should  leave  me  there  by  myself 
to  appreciate  their  show  of  kind  feelings;  for  anyway  I 
heard  them  scurrying  out,  Link  in  their  midst,  and  I 
knew  they  were  headed  for  the  ball  grounds  in  the 
hollow.  I  opened  the  Seckatary's  book  that  I  had  not 
seen  since  I  left.  In  it,  mostly  pasted  in  the  proper 
places,  were  all  the  writings  that  I  had  made  in  Cuba, 
copies  of  which  I  had  sent  regularly  to  Dick  Ferris. 
On  the  front  of  a  new  book  that  lay  beside  it  was  printed 

9 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

in  Lew  Hunter's  hand:  "Seckatary  Hawkins — His 
Book."  I  smiled.  A  sound  came  from  the  front  room. 
I  looked  up.  The  curtains  parted,  and  I  looked  into 
the  face  of  that  self-styled  "overseer,"  the  boy  who 
had  told  me  to  "Git"  earlier  in  the  morning.  He  looked 
at  me  with  open  mouth  and  wide  eyes.  Then  he 
blurted  out: 

"Was  it  you  I  met  this  morning — you  the  fella' 
these  boys  were  waiting  for?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  smiling,  "I  am  Seckatary  Hawkins." 

He  grinned  at  me,  and  then  slowly  held  out  his 
hand  to  me. 

"I  guess  I'm  a  bone-head,"  he  said,  "but  shucks! 
I  didn't  know;  never  met  you  in  my  life  before — you'll 
excuse  me,  won't  you?" 

"With  all  my  heart,"  I  answered,  "if  you'll  tell  me 
who  you  are." 

"Perry — I'm  Perry  Stokes,  sir,"  he  said,  "but  they 
all  just  call  me  Perry.  I  just  joined  the  bunch  a 
month  ago — came  down  from  Watertown,  sir.  Hope 
you'll  like  me  as  well  as  the  other  boys  do." 

"I'm  sure  I  will,  Perry,"  I  answered.  "Will  you 
run  down  to  the  ball  lot  and  ask  the  boys  to  come  up. 
I'm  anxious  to  have  a  meeting  before  Doc  Waters  and 
Judge  Granbery  come." 

He  clapped  his  green  cap  on  his  head  and  was  off 
like  a  shot.  I  smiled  and  followed  him  to  the  door, 
where  I  stood  until  he  disappeared  in  the  green.  I 
stood  there,  happy  as  a  lark,  thinking  of  good  times  in 
store  for  us  this  summer,  when  from  the  river  path  a 
figure  approached. 

Ah,  how  could  I  ever  forget  that  figure!  The  same 
ragged,  shiftless  kid,  with  a  surly  look  and  an  expres- 
sion on  his  face  that  made  you  think  he  was  always 

10 


HOME    AGAIN 

hunting  a  shoulder  with  a  chip  on  it.     Briggen  it  was, 
Briggen  of  the  Pelham  gang  across  the  river. 

He  stopped  short  when  he  saw  me  standing  in  the 
door.  For  a  full  minute  he  gazed  at  me,  as  though  I 
were  a  ghost.  Then,  without  a  sound,  he  turned  and 
quickly  fled  back  to  the  river. 


11 


II 
A  Boxing  Match 

WE  HAD  a  great  celebration  on  the  Fourth- 
I  never  saw  so  much  fireworks  and  decora' 
tions.     Of  course  the  boys  had  the  clubhouse 
all  decked  out  in  honor  of  the  holiday,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  that  they  imagined  it  was  more  on  account  of  our 
homecoming  than  anything  else. 

The  day  following  our  arrival  we  had  a  meeting  in 
the  clubhouse,  which  made  it  seem  like  old  times. 
Dick  Ferris  sat  himself  down  in  the  Captain's  chair, 
and  Link  and  I  took  our  regular  places,  as  though  we 
had  been  doing  that  very  thing  right  along.  I  could 
not  help  laughing  at  Perry  Stokes,  the  new  boy  who 
had  been  appointed  "overseer"  by  Dick  Ferris,  of 
course,  to  look  after  things  while  the  boys  were  not 
around.  Perry  had  a  funny  way  about  him,  which 
seemed  to  be  that  he  imagined  he  was  a  very  important 
person  around  the  place.  He  arranged  the  chairs,  and 
dusted  the  table,  opened  the  windows,  got  my  book 
and  pen  and  ink  out,  put  the  Captain's  wooden  hammer 
in  front  for  his  place  and  all  such  things.  I  watched 
him  with  a  smile  as  he  flitted  about  with  such  a  serious 
look  on  his  face  that  would  lead  you  to  think  he  was  a 
mighty  important  member.  But  he  was  a  nice  kid, 
not  fresh,  but  just  anxious  to  make  good  in  the  job  to 
which  his  Captain  had  appointed  him. 

I  had  told  Link  to  bring  Will  Standish  down  with 
him,  but  he  came  alone,  and  told  me  that  Doc  Waters 
had  taken  Will  up  to  Watertown  with  him  to  buy  a 

12 


A    BOXING    MATCH 

few  things.  So  we  went  ahead  with  our  meeting.  After 
that  the  fellows  made  me  get  up  and  tell  them  about 
the  trip  to  Cuba  and  the  fate  of  Rafael  and  the  hidden 
treasure.  It  seemed  that  they  could  not  believe  that  all 
that  money  that  was  hidden  in  the  Granada  casks  had 
been  lost.  Of  course,  I  had  written  each  week  what 
had  happened,  and  they  had  received  my  writings  reg- 
ularly, for  Dick  Ferris,  to  whom  I  addressed  them, 
pasted  them  in  the  Seckatary's  book,  where  they  could 
be  read  by  every  one  in  the  club.  But  they  thought  I 
had  just  made  it  up.  They  didn't  believe  that  we  would 
let  all  that  Granada  gold  get  out  of  our  hands.  But  I 
crossed  my  heart  when  I  told  it  to  them  again  there  in 
the  clubhouse,  and  I  think  they  believe  me  now.  Lew 
Hunter  said  he  felt  very  sorry  for  Elam,  the  poor  little 
lame  man  with  the  greenish  face,  although  he  said  he 
did  not  like  him  the  first  time  he  read  about  that  green 
face  peeking  in  my  bedroom  window  one  midnight. 

Oh,  well,  I  told  them  some  things,  and  then  Link 
had  to  get  up  and  make  a  little  speech,  but  all  that  he 
could  talk  about  was  his  new  home  down  around  Lex- 
ington, I  believe,  where  he  said  he  would  live  from 
now  on. 

Then  Will  Standish  came— good  old  Will.  Gee,  he's 
a  fine  chap.  So  different.  He  came  in  the  clubhouse 
smiling. 

"Ah,  there  you  are,  Hawkins,"  he  said,  in  his  snappy 
tone;  "I  thought  I  should  find  the  way  easily.  Hope 
I'm  not  intruding  upon  one  of  your  meetings." 

I  laughed.  "Come  in,  Will,"  I  said;  "we've  just 
been  waiting  for  you.  I  want  you  to  meet  the  boys — 
yeah,  these  are  the  fellows  I  told  you  about  when  we 
were  down  in  sunny  Cuba  together." 

He  came  in  smiling  and  happy  and  shook  hands  with 
13 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

all  of  the  boys,  saying  how  glad  he  was  to  be  here  for 
a  short  vacation,  and  how  happy  he  was  to  meet  boys 
from  Kentucky. 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "all  that  I  heard  from  Hawkins 
while  he  was  down  in  Cuba  was  about  old  Kentucky 
and  his  boys  up  here.  And  I'm  sure  he  didn't  stretch 
his  tales  about  you — he  told  me  about  Stoner's  Boy, 
too." 

"The  worst  boy  we  ever  saw  around  here,"  said 
Lew  Hunter;  "but  I  don't  think  he  was  anything  com- 
pared with  the  frightful  things  you  boys  met  in 
Cuba." 

Will  laughed.  "There  were  some  fast  rides  to  make," 
he  said.  "I  suppose  Hawkins  told  you  of  my  green 
motor  boat?  Yes?  It's  a  whizzer.  There's  none  on 
the  river  that  can  touch  her.  And  we  had  to  use  her 
sometimes — once  in  the  dark  at  night." 

And  so  it  went.  The  talk  ran  mostly  about  Cuba, 
but  Will  managed  to  ask  some  questions  about  us  and 
our  clubhouse  doings  and  so  forth,  so  that  he  got  a 
pretty  fair  idea  of  our  bunch  and  how  we  made  life 
pleasant  here  on  the  river  bank.  The  boys  told  him 
about  our  old  times  in  the  houseboat,  after  Will  got  to 
asking  questions  about  that,  and  then  they  added  a 
few  tales  of  Stoner's  Boy  and  our  battles  with  the  gray 
ghost.  Will  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  the  boys  were  at- 
tached to  him  from  the  start.  As  I  sat  there  watching 
them,  letting  Will  and  the  boys  do  all  the  talking,  I 
thought  that  Will  had  a  shade  the  better  of  my  boys 
in  knowledge.  He  had  had  better  schooling,  of  course. 
But  Will  did  not  show  off,  nor  try  to  make  the  others 
feel  it;  he  just  sat  there,  laughing,  talking,  acting  as 
though  he  had  known  them  all  his  life.  That's  the 
kind  of  a  kid  I  like.  You  can  always  depend  on  a 

14 


A    BOXING    MATCH 

fellow  of  that  kind.  He's  bound  to  be  a  good  friend  in 
the  long  run,  where  others  might  fail  if  put  to  &  test. 

But  one  voice  in  that  crowd  was  not  heard.  It  was 
Jerry  Moore.  He  sat  over  on  his  side  of  the  table  with 
his  arms  folded  listening  to  the  talk,  his  eyes  upon 
Will  Standish.  "What's  the  matter  with  Jerry?"  I 
thought  to  myself.  And  then,  after  we  had  gone  out- 
side for  our  usual  ball  game,  I  found  out  what 
was  rankling  in  Jerry's  breast.  He  came  up  to  me 
as  I  came  out. 

"Hawkins,"  he  said,  "what  kind  of  a  sissy  is  this  new 
fella'  you  brought  with  you?" 

"Jerry,"  I  said,  "I'm  surprised.  You're  a  sensible 
fellow,  and  you  shouldn't  talk  like  that." 

Jerry  stuck  out  his  chin  and  his  hands  doubled  into 
fists.  "I  know,"  he  said,  "but  us  boys  knew  you  all 
our  life.  Here  comes  a  fella*  what's  never  been  a  mem- 
ber of  this  here  club,  and  he  thinks  you  belong  to 
him." 

I  couldn't  "get"  Jerry  for  a  minute,  and  I  looked  him 
square  in  the  eye. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  he  continued.  "Listen, 
Hawkins.  Ain't  I  been  your  best  friend  all  your  life?" 

"Indeed  you  have,  Jerry,  old  boy,"  I  said,  slapping 
him  on  the  back,  "and  you  and  I  are  always  going  to 
be  pardners.  But  Will  is  a  good  friend,  too." 

Jerry  shook  his  head.  "That  won't  go,"  he  said,  in 
a  disappointed  tone.  "If  that  guy  stays  around  here 
you  won't  ever  be  the  same  old  Hawkins  with  us.  You'll 
be  having  him  to  look  after;  you  won't  ever  have  time 
for  us  boys  any  more." 

I  wanted  to  say  more  to  Jerry.  I  wanted  to  change 
this  foolish  notion  in  his  mind,  but  Jerry  is  strong- 
headed.  He  always  was.  And  he  didn't  give  me  time 

15 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

to  say  any  more  to  him.  He  simply  turned  and  walked 
rapidly  down  to  the  ball  lot  in  the  hollow. 

"Good  old  Jerry,"  I  said  to  myself. 

I  went  down  to  the  hollow  because  the  boys  had 
asked  me  to  umpire  a  game  of  scrub.  But  there  was 
more  to  come  of  this.  Bill  Darby  had  invited  Will  to 
try  his  hand  at  pitching.  Now  Will  had  had  some  train- 
ing in  baseball  down  in  Cuba.  The  Cubans  are  great 
baseball  fans.  Every  little  kid  down  there,  white,  brown, 
or  black,  begins  to  play  baseball  just  as  soon  as  he  is 
big  enough  to  hold  a  bat  and  ball.  And  Will  had  learned 
to  pitch.  In  fact,  he  struck  out  Bill  Darby,  Lew  Hunter, 
and  Roy  Dobel  one  after  another.  Dick  Ferris  got  a 
hit,  a  straight  bounder  that  Will  picked  up  quickly  and 
sailed  to  first  in  plenty  of  time.  Johnny  McLarren 
bounded  a  couple  of  fouls  and  fanned  the  wind 
for  the  third.  Jerry  grasped  the  bat  next,  and 
from  the  set  look  on  his  face  I  knew  that  Jerry  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  sail  the  ball  to  kingdom  come 
just  to  show  up  this  Will  Standish. 

Now,  the  worst  part  of  this  was,  I  was  umpiring. 
I  knew  I  was  in  for  it,  and  when  Will  pitched  the  first 
ball  Jerry  made  a  vicious  swing  at  it  that  turned  him 
around  like  a  spinning  top.  I  had  to  laugh,  and  I  hated 
to  yell  the  "Strike  One,"  but  it  had  to  be  done.  The 
boys  standing  around  laughed,  too.  Jerry  finally  stopped 
spinning,  and  turned  a  scowling  face  upon  the  boys 
who  laughed.  Then  he  turned  and  gave  me  a  hard 
look,  spat  upon  his  hands  and  took  a  firmer  hold  upon 
his  bat.  Will  stood  waiting  for  him  to  get  position. 
Will  did  not  laugh,  nor  smile.  I  suppose  Will  knew  he 
had  a  tough  customer,  and  I  wondered  whether  or  not 
Will  would  pitch  an  easy  one  for  Jerry  to  hit,  so  that 
there  would  be  no  feeling  in  the  matter.  But  when  the 

16 


A    BOXING    MATCH 

second  pitched  ball  whizzed  past  Jerry's  bat  I  knew 
that  Will  was  sticking  to  his  old  form.  "Strike!"  I 
yelled  again.  Jerry  stood  up  waiting  for  the  next  one. 
Jerry  swung  a  heavy  hickory  bat,  but  he  batted  noth- 
ing. No,  the  ball  reached  the  catcher's  mitt  on  Dick 
Ferris's  hand  without  injury  of  any  kind.  If  that  ball 
had  connected  with  the  blow  that  Jerry  intended  for 
it,  it  would  have  been  "good-night  ball." 

Jerry  was  sore;  it  was  plain  to  see  that.  He  flung 
the  bat  into  the  grass  with  a  grunt.  Then  he  walked 
straight  down  to  where  Will  Standish  stood.  Will 
waited  for  him  with  his  hands  resting  upon  his  hips, 
but  there  was  no  smile  on  Will's  face.  As  Jerry  neared 
him  I  could  see  Will  size  him  up  from  head  to  foot, 
and  Will's  face  was  white,  but  his  eyes  were  sparkling 
with  a  light  of  courage. 

"You're  some  pitcher,"  said  Jerry,  with  a  false 
smile,  "but  you  don't  count,  see?  You  don't  belong  to 
this  club,  and  you  had  no  right  to  pitch.  Hawkins  is 
our  Seckatary,  I'll  let  you  know  that,  and  there  ain't 
no  Cuban  goin'  to  coax  him  out  of  our  club." 

Will  did  not  smile;  he  did  not  move.  He  looked 
Jerry  straight  in  the  eye  for  a  second  and  then  said: 

"You  are  right,  I  don't  count.  I  don't  belong  here. 
But  I'm  not  going  to  stay,  you  know.  I  thought  you 
ought  to  like  a  little  good  pitching,  or  I'd  not  have  done 
it.  You  see  I  thought  you  would  be  entertained,  that's 
all." 

"Just  like  you,"  said  Jerry,  "you're  a  sissy — " 

He  didn't  get  any  further.  Will's  position  shifted 
in  a  flash,  he  was  holding  Jerry  by  both  arms.  "That 
doesn't  go,  you  know,"  he  said  quietly  in  a  shaking  voice. 
"Really,  you  don't  know  me,  or  you  wouldn't  talk  like 
that." 

17 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Jerry  jerked  away  from  him,  and  quickly  picked  up 
a  piece  of  wood  and  put  it  on  his  shoulder.  "All  right, 
knock  it  off,"  he  said;  "show  me  you're  no  sissy."  Will 
struck  the  bit  of  wood  from  Jerry's  shoulder  before  the 
words  were  cold. 

"I  suppose  that  means  fight,"  said  Will.  "It  used 
to  when  I  was  smaller." 

"You're  right  about  that,"  returned  Jerry.  "We 
don't  put  chips  on  our  shoulders  for  fun.  It's  fight. 
You'll  be  sorry,  though." 

Will  walked  up  and  pushed  his  face  close  up  to 
Jerry's. 

"But,  listen,"  he  said,  "you'll  not  call  me  sissy  again 
— not  until  you've  beaten  me  in  a  fair  fight." 

"No,  course  not,"  answered  Jerry.  "There's  rules 
in  fighting,  you  know.  I  said  what  you  are,  and  once  is 
enough.  You  can  prove  you're  not  if  you've  got  spunk." 

Will  turned  to  me  and  said:  "You  and  the  boys  fix 
it,  Hawkins — buy  some  boxing  gloves." 

"We've  got  the  gloves,"  said  Bill  Darby. 

"All  right,  then,  whenever  you  say  I'll  be  ready," 
said  Will.  "There's  no  use  of  being  on  the  outs,  as  you 
boys  call  it.  Let's  make  an  appointment  for  this  fight, 
and  then  go  ahead  and  enjoy  ourselves  till  the  time  of 
the  fight." 

"Suits  me,"  sang  out  Jerry;  "that  suits  me  fine, 
Will." 

It  surprised  me  to  see  Jerry  in  such  good  humor 
now.  It  seemed  that  all  he  cared  lor  was  to  get  a  promise 
out  of  Will  Standish  to  fight  him.  But  I  was  yet  to 
learn  that  my  boys  had  been  doing  things  on  their  own 
account  while  I  was  away. 

The  next  afternoon  was  the  time  set.     When  I  ar- 
18 


A    BOXING    MATCH 

rived  down  at  the  clubhouse  I  was  surprised  to  see 
Roy  Dobel  drive  up  with  his  father's  cart  and  horse. 
What  he  was  hauling  was  sawdust.  He  shouted  "Hello !" 
to  me  and  jumped  off  the  cart,  and  then,  getting  in 
front  of  the  horse,  backed  the  cart  around  to  the  side 
of  the  clubhouse,  where  the  ground  was  level.  Dick 
Ferris  was  there,  and  Bill  Darby,  directing  where  the 
sawdust  was  to  be  dumped,  and  while  they  were  spread- 
ing it  over  the  ground  Johnny  McLarren  came  running 
out  of  the  clubhouse  with  a  bundle  of  sticks  and  rope. 
I  sat  down  on  the  steps  and  watched.  In  a  few  minutes 
they  had  the  four  sticks  set  up  in  holes,  and  were  sliding 
the  ropes  through  the  holes  in  the  sticks.  I  saw  at  once 
that  they  were  making  a  stage  for  a  boxing  show.  I 
was  greatly  pleased,  too,  for  I  knew  my  boys  had  been 
doing  some  good  training  while  I  was  in  Cuba.  But, 
from  the  remarks  of  the  boys  as  they  worked  on  the 
ropes,  I  began  to  gather  that  Jerry  had  been  training 
in  boxing  all  winter,  and  that  he  had  become  a  very 
clever  boxer.  That  worried  me  a  little.  I  felt  for  Will, 
whom  I  had  never  seen  fight.  But  it  was  too  late  now; 
the  date  was  set,  the  boys  had  agreed. 

The  boys  were  all  feeling  fine  when  they  gathered 
for  the  regular  meeting.  Hardly  a  word  was  said,  but 
what  they  all  had  to  laugh  and  joke,  even  Jerry  talking 
to  Will  Standish  as  though  nothing  had  happened  be- 
tween them.  I  wondered  to  myself  if  Jerry  didn't  pull 
this  stunt  just  to  show  up  Will  Standish,  or  rather  to 
show  off  himself  and  what  he  had  learned  about  boxing. 
Anyway,  Dick  Ferris  asked  Will  if  he  knew  the  rules  of 
boxing,  and  Will  just  nodded  and  smiled.  I  thought  to 
myself,  Will  Standish  is  going  to  fight  fair,  and  that  is 
his  one  rule.  If  you  fight  fair  you  know  all  the  rules. 

At  two  o'clock  we  gathered  on  the  side  of  the  club- 
19 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

house,  where  the  sawdust  ring  had  been  put  up.  Jerry 
wore  his  swimming  shirt  without  sleeves  and  a  pair  of 
dark  blue  swimming  trunks.  He  wore  rubber-soled 
slippers.  When  Will  Standish  came  out  of  the  club- 
house he  wore  a  bathing  suit  of  blue  and  white  stripes 
and  a  pair  of  tennis  shoes.  Bill  Darby  helped  Jerry  on 
with  his  gloves,  while  Dick  Ferris  helped  Will.  I  never 
saw  a  bunch  of  boys  pull  off  a  fight  like  this.  It  was  all 
so  real,  as  if  this  thing  had  been  thought  out  before, 
and  I  suppose  if  Will  hadn't  come  back  with  me  I  would 
have  been  the  one  to  fight  Jerry  instead.  I  believed  now 
that  these  boys  had  planned  to  have  a  regular  fight, 
and  here  it  was. 

Johnny  McLarren  stood  over  in  the  ring  to  see  that 
the  fight  was  fair.  Dick  was  over  in  Will's  corner,  and 
Bill  Darby  over  in  Jerry*s  corner.  Johnny  struck  a 
bell,  and  the  fight  was  on. 

The  two  boys  jumped  to  their  feet  at  the  same  time 
and  stood  watching  each  other.  Will  seemed  a  bit 
green.  He  held  his  gloves  up  as  if  he  were  waiting  to 
turn  aside  any  blow,  but  Jerry's  arms  were  going  like 
windmills,  as  though  he  were  warming  up  to  give  a 
mighty  punch.  I  had  to  laugh,  but  I  stopped  short 
when  I  saw  Jerry's  right  arm  shoot  out  and  catch  Will 
Standish  on  the  neck.  Will  had  tried  to  duck  it,  but 
too  late.  Jerry  sprang  back  against  his  ropes  as  if  he 
expected  Will  to  come  and  pay  him  back  that  blow,  but 
Will  stood  still.  Jerry  danced  round  as  if  he  was  aching 
to  get  another  lick,  but  didn't  care  to  get  too  close. 
Then  he  took  courage. 

Yeah,  I  said,  then  he  took  his  courage  and  he  took 
it  all.  He  seemed  to  believe  that  Will  Standish  was 
never  going  to  light  in  on  him.  He  thought  all  it  took 
was  for  Jerry  Moore  to  go  straight  over  and  pound 

20 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

away  on  Will  Standish.  And  that  might  have  been  so, 
but  Will  changed  his  mind  about  standing  still  just  then, 
and  Jerry  caught  something  on  his  chin.  He  went  back- 
ward quickly  several  steps  and  sat  down.  Will  backed 
over  to  his  ropes  and  waited  for  Jerry  to  get  up.  Bill 
Darby  hurried  over  and  helped  Jerry  to  his  feet.  Jerry 
rubbed  his  chin  with  the  back  of  his  glove  and  started  out 
to  finish  the  fight.  It  doesn't  hurt  to  start  out  to  do  any- 
thing, even  if  you  don't  succeed.  But  Jerry's  chin 
ached  a  little,  I  guess,  and  he  just  set  out  to  give  Will 
two  licks  for  this  one,  and  both  were  to  be  delivered  on 
the  nose,  I  think.  Anyway,  that's  where  Jerry  swung 
to  when  he  met  Will  in  the  middle  of  the  sawdust,  but 
Will  knew  what  Jerry  was  up  to,  and  when  the  swing 
came  the  head  of  Will  bobbed  like  a  cork  on  a  fishing 
line,  and  while  Jerry  was  wondering  where  Will's  head 
went  to  so  quick  something  shot  up  quickly  between  his 
arms  and  landed  again  on  the  chin — ouch!  Jerry 
growled,  but  braced  himself  after  a  step  backward  and 
came  again,  his  gloves  beating  down  upon  Will's  head, 
for  Will  had  slipped  and  was  on  one  knee.  Bill  Darby 
and  Dick  Ferris  helped  Will  up,  and  they  were  too  close 
to  fight,  and  Jerry  grabbed  Will  around  the  shoulders 
and  hung  on  for  dear  life.  Will  broke  away  and  threw 
Jerry  back,  and  then  it  seemed  as  if  Will  had  gotten 
his  stride,  for  he  sang  out:  "Come,  come  on,  now!" 
and  he  went  for  Jerry  with  right  and  left,  but  Johnny 
McLarren  decided  that  the  round  had  gone  long  enough, 
and  struck  the  bell  again,  and  hollered  "Time!" 

They  didn't  time  the  round.  But  it  didn't  make 
any  difference  about  that  part  of  the  rule.  When  the 
bell  sounded  again  Jerry  hollered,  "Aw,  for  heaven's 
sake,  give  a  fella'  time  to  get  his  breath."  Then  they 

22 


A    BOXING    MATCH 

had  to  make  it  a  little  longer,  but  Jerry  was  ready  when 
the  next  bell  came. 

But  Will  was  on  his  feet  sooner.  He  was  in  the 
middle  of  the  sawdust  waiting.  And  Jerry  came  with 
his  arms  going  like  a  choo-choo  train  drive.  I  thought 
if  Jerry  would  only  save  all  that  energy  and  put  it  in 
one  good  punch  he  might  do  something.  But  Will  gave 
him  a  merry  chase.  Whenever  Jerry  struck  Will  ducked, 
and  then  he  would  call  out  "Strike  one!  Strike  two!" 
and  so  on.  Jerry  was  getting  very  sore.  Will's  tennis 
shoes  must  have  been  slippery,  for  he  went  down  again 
on  one  knee,  and  Jerry  caught  him  full  along  the  side  of 
the  head — a  good  punch,  and  Will  fell  over  on  his  side. 
But,  up  again  in  an  instant,  he  came  right  back  for  Jerry, 
and — 

Well,  I  didn't  see  that  last  punch.  It  was  too  quick. 
How  Will  ever  got  under  those  ever-moving  arms  of 
Jerry's  and  gave  him  that  last  crack  I'm  not  able  to 
tell  you.  But  there  was  Jerry  sitting  on  the  floor, 
pulling  off  his  gloves,  while  Will  Standish  stood  over  on 
his  side,  leaning  against  the  ropes,  breathing  hard,  but 
smiling  down  at  the  sitting  Jerry. 

"You're  all  right,  Will,"  said  Jerry;  "I  didn't  think 
you  had  it  in  you." 

Will  helped  Jerry  up  and  they  shook  hands.  "Well," 
I  said  to  myself,  "now  that's  settled." 


Ill 
Harkinson 

THINGS  were  moving  fine  now.  Ever  since  that 
boxing  match  Jerry  had  a  great  respect  for  Will 
Standish.  In  fact,  they  became  fast  friends.  Jerry 
begged  Will  to  teach  him  how  to  throw  curves,  and, 
although  Will  tried  to  show  him  how  it  was  done,  Jerry 
could  not  get  the  hang  of  it.  I  guess  a  good  baseball 
player  has  to  be  born  a  pitcher  or  a  batter;  if  it  isn't 
in  a  fellow  he  never  can  learn  how.  I  noticed  during 
several  games  we  had  later  that  although  Jerry  tried 
to  pitch  and  to  use  the  same  curves  that  Will  had,  he 
never  succeeded.  When  Jerry  pitched,  the  boys  pasted 
the  ball  right  and  left,  and  the  fellows  who  were  doing 
the  fielding  were  kept  so  busy  that  they  finally  yelled 
to  take  Jerry  out,  so  they  wouldn't  have  to  chase  so 
many  batted  balls. 

These  were  great  vacation  days  for  us.  The  old 
swimming  hole  looked  the  same  as  it  did  in  years  gone 
by,  and  we  took  a  swim  every  day,  usually  before  noon. 
The  willows  hang  over  the  river  at  the  old  swimming 
hole,  and  it  is  cool  and  shady.  Will  Standish  thought 
this  was  the  greatest  treat  he  ever  had.  I  guess  the 
poor  kid  never  had  an  old  rough  swimming  hole  like 
ours,  and  it  did  him  good  to  get  so  close  to  nature. 

On  the  morning  following  the  boxing  match  I  was 
sitting  alone  in  the  little  office  when  Perry  popped  in. 

"Morning,  sir,"  he  said  with  a  grin.  "Go  right 
ahead  with  your  writing;  I  don't  mean  to  bother  you 
at  all,  sir.  Just  wanted  to  say  hello." 

24 


HARKINSON 

I  smiled  and  said: 

"You  never  bother  me,  Perry.  I  haven't  seen  much 
of  you  since  I  came  back.  Come  in  and  sit  down." 

"Oh,  no,  sir,"  he  said,  "the  boys  wouldn't  like  it. 
They  don't  like  it  at  all,  Hawkins.  I'm  just  overseer, 
you  see." 

"So  the  Captain  told  me,"  I  said  to  him;  "but  that 
doesn't  hinder  you  from  sitting  down  a  while  and 
talking,  does  it?" 

Perry  smiled.  "They  think  so,"  he  said.  "You 
know  they  didn't  want  me  in  the  clubhouse  at  all, 
sir.  But  I  begged  'em  to  let  me  stay  around  and 
promised  to  keep  things  clean  for  'em,  and  to  look  after 
the  clubhouse." 

"So  they  made  a  bargain  with  you?" 

"That's  the  way  it  looks,  sir — I  mean  Hawkins." 

"Listen,"  I  said:  "Don't  say  'sir'  to  me  or  anyone 
around  this  clubhouse,  Perry.  Where  did  you  get  that 
habit?" 

"My  daddy,  sir — Hawkins,  I  mean,"  he  answered; 
"it's  a  habit,  to  be  sure." 

"What  does  your  daddy  do?" 

"He  is  the  butler  up  at  Judge  Granbery's,"  replied 
Perry.  "I  guess  the  boys  think  it  isn't  just  nice  to  have 
a  butler's  son  in  the  club,  sir;  but,  all  the  same,  my 
daddy's  a  fine  man.  I'm  proud  of  him  as  you  are  of 
your'n  or  any  of  the  other  boys." 

I  stood  up  and  walked  over  to  Perry. 

"Shake,"  I  said,  holding  out  my  hand.  "I'm  proud 
to  hear  you  talk  that  way.  Stick  up  for  your  daddy, 
Perry,  no  matter  what  kind  of  work  he  does." 

Perry  Stokes  shook  my  hand  warmly  and  smiled 
up  at  me.  "Thanks,"  he  said.  "You  are  different  than 
other  boys.  Why  can't  they  all  see  things  that  way?" 

25 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Perry,"  I  said,  "if  every  person  in  this  world  saw 
things  the  same  as  his  next-door  neighbor,  we'd  never 
get  anywhere.  If  everybody  thought  the  same  thing 
and  believed  the  same  thing,  we  would  never  have  seen 
an  automobile  or  an  airplane,  or  anything  like  that. 
Because  most  of  the  people  believed  it  couldn't  be  done. 
Only  because  a  few  others  thought  it  could  be  done  and 
went  ahead  and  tried  it  we  have  all  the  things  to-day 
that  make  life  as  wonderful  as  it  is.  You  can  see  the 
point,  can't  you?" 

Perry  looked  at  me  with  big  eyes  and  open 
mouth. 

"Great  Jerusalem!"  he  exclaimed.  "You're  smart, 
you  are,  Hawkins." 

I  laughed  at  him.  "Forget  it,"  I  said.  "I've  been 
doing  some  thinking,  that's  all,  Perry.  When  I  went 
across  the  water  in  that  big  .ship  I  began  to  wonder  how 
any  man  could  figure  out  how  to  make  so  much  iron 
float.  I  would  have  believed  it  could  not  have  been  done. 
And  if  it  had  depended  upon  me  there  would  have 
been  no  ships  like  that.  But  the  man  who  figured  it  out 
thought  different.  That's  just  it.  Everybody  doesn't 
think  in  the  same  way.  Just  so  with  the  boys  here. 
They've  all  got  ideas  of  their  own.  But  they'll  change. 
You  just  wait  and  see." 

Perry  had  a  happy  look  as  he  said : 

"I  wish  they  were  all  like  you,  sir." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  to  forget  that  'sir'  when  you 
talk  to  me?  Don't  do  it,  Perry.  You're  not  any 
different." 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  guess  I  am,  though,"  he  said 
sadly.  "I  catch  it  from  all  sides.  Dick  Ferris  gave 
me  the  dickens  for  letting  Briggen  and  some  of  his  Pel- 
hams  get  into  the  clubhouse  one  night.  But  I  couldn't 

26 


HARKINSON 

stay  down  here  all  night,  could  I?  No,  sir.  And  they 
came  while  I  was  home  sleeping  and  took  a  pair  of 
brand-new  canoe  paddles  that  belonged  to  Bill  Darby. 
Then  the  next  day  when  I  came  down  they  said  I  was 
standing  in  with  the  Pelham  gang." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,  Perry,"  I  said;  "but  I'll 
look  into  it  and  stop  it  for  you.  You  shall  be  a  member 
of  the  club  if  I  have  anything  to  say  about  it." 

"I'll  thank  you,  sure,"  he  said.  "You  sure  are  good 
to  me — you  and  Jerry  Moore;  the  others  are  different." 

At  that  moment  something  caught  my  eye  through 
the  window,  a  figure  coming  through  the  tall  grass  on 
the  hilly  ground  behind  the  clubhouse.  The  next 
instant — 

"Good  night!"  I  said.    "Who  is  that?" 

A  big  overgrown,  raggedy,  brown-faced  boy  stood 
with  his  arms  akimbo  looking  down  at  the  clubhouse 
from  the  rise  of  ground.  On  account  of  the  curtains 
with  which  the  boys  had  dressed  my  window,  he  could 
not  see  us,  although  he  was  plainly  visible  to  us. 

"It's  Harkinson,"  whispered  Perry;  "he's  looking 
for  me,  sir." 

"Who  is  he?"  I  asked.  "Who's  this  Harkinson, 
Perry?" 

"The  new  Pelham  fellow,"  he  replied  in  a  low  voice. 
"I  chased  him  away  from  here  the  first  day  I  came. 
He  wouldn't  go,  and  I  threw  my  stick  at  him  and  it 
hit  him,  and  now  he's  always  looking  for  me." 

"What  did  you  do  when  your  stick  hit  him?" 

"I  ran,  sir.  There's  no  good  of  staying  when  a 
fellow's  after  you,  sir." 

"For  heaven's  sake,  drop  the  'sir,'  Perry,  when  you 
talk  to  me.  You're  right :  there's  no  use  staying  when  a 
fellow's  after  you.  And  he's  coming,  too.  If  he's  after 

27 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

you  I  suppose  you  better  beat  it  while  you've  got  the 
chance,  and  let  me  take  care  of  him." 

Perry  did  not  wait  to  say  more,  but  slipped  out  of 
the  room  and  was  gone.  About  two  minutes  later  I 
heard  a  step  on  the  porch.  I  waited  there  in  my  little 
office,  not  making  a  sound.  I  heard  the  shuffle  of  feet 
in  the  clubroom  as  the  newcomer  slowly  took  his  time 
investigating  the  place.  He  muttered  something  to 
himself  once  or  twice,  and  I  heard  him  fooling  around 
Lew  Hunter's  organ,  until  he  must  have  touched  a 
key  and  it  gave  out  a  note  that  perhaps  frightened  him, 
for  I  heard  him  moving  away  from  it.  Then  his  steps 
moved  to  the  cupboard,  and  I  heard  the  squeak  of  the 
hinges  as  he  opened  the  cupboard  door.  He  rum- 
maged through  it,  judging  from  the  sounds,  and  when  I 
began  to  wonder  if  I  had  not  better  go  out  and  see 
what  he  was  about,  the  curtains  parted  and  he  stood 
before  me. 

"Good  morning,"  I  said.  "Is  this  just  a  little  friendly 
call  or  have  you  business  here?" 

He  looked  surprised.  I  suppose  he  thought  no  one 
was  in  the  clubhouse.  But  he  held  something  in  his 
right  arm  that  caught  my  eye,  and  I  knew  it  had  no 
right  to  be  in  the  arms  of  a  fellow  named  Harkinson 
when  it  belonged  to  a  fellow  named  Bill  Darby. 

"No,"  I  said,  before  he  had  time  to  answer  me, 
"that  rifle  is  not  for  sale.  Bill  Darby  got  it  from  me 
for  a  present,  and  I  got  it  from  a  boy  named  Larry 
King  for  a  present;  but  as  far  as  presents  go,  it's  not 
going  to  be  used  for  that  purpose  any  more — only  for 
shooting  rabbits  in  the  wintertime  by  us  boys." 

I  stood  up  and  reached  over  and  took  the  gun  out 
of  his  arms  before  he  had  time  to  know  what  I  was 
about  to  do.  He  had  a  bad  look,  this  Harkinson.  In 

28 


H ARKINSON 

all  my  time  I  had  never  seen  a  Pelham  fellow  with  a 
tough  face  such  as  this,  nor  as  big  a  head,  or  as  broad 
shoulders.  He  grunted  and  muttered  something  in  such  a 
low  voice  that  I  could  not  catch  the  words.  He  leaned 
over  the  desk  and  pushed  his  face  close  to  mine,  looking 
steadily  in  my  eyes,  as  though  he  wished  to  impress  my 
face  upon  his  memory — he  did  not  want  to  forget  me. 
Then  his  lips  curled  downward,  and,  with  a  sour  smile 
upon  his  tough  face,  Harkinson  turned  and  walked 
out  of  my  office.  I  listened  until  his  footsteps  died  out 
on  the  path  and  then  I  looked  at  Bill  Darby's  gun  and 
smiled.  Harkinson,  whatever  he  was,  did  not  seem  to 
worry  much.  He  came  to  take  something,  I  suppose, 
if  he  could  have  gotten  away  with  it,  but  after  finding 
that  it  might  cause  an  argument  he  went  away  without 
it.  "Belongs  to  Pelham,"  I  said  to  myself,  "and  all 
Pelhams  are  alike.  Birds  of  a  feather,  all  of  'em." 

I  set  the  gun  against  the  wall  and  continued  my 
writing. 

I  heard  the  voices  of  our  boys  down  by  the  swim- 
ming pool  as  I  left  the  clubhouse  and  started  down  the 
path.  From  the  bushes  behind  the  clubhouse  Perry 
Stokes  ran  to  meet  me.  "Is  he  gone,  sir?"  he  asked. 

I  didn't  have  time  to  answer  him.  I  heard  a  yell — 
one  of  those  Indian  yells  the  Pelhams  used  to  scare  us 
with — and  I  turned  quickly. 

"Where?'  I  asked.  "Where  did  that  yell  come 
from,  Perry?" 

But  Perry  had  turned  before  I  had  spoken  and  was 
running  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  take  him.  It  sort  o' 
spoiled  my  opinion  of  Perry.  I  had  thought  he  was 
game,  from  the  looks  of  him.  Now,  as  I  saw  him  scamper 
off,  I  felt  myself  looking  at  him  through  different  eyes. 

29 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Yellow,"  I  said.  But  before  long  I  was  to  see  how 
badly  mistaken  I  was. 

The  whole  crowd  from  the  river  had  come  running 
at  the  sound  of  that  yell.  Bill  Darby  and  Jerry  Moore 
led  the  crowd  as  they  came.  "It's  Harkinson!"  shcuted 
Bill  to  me.  "Harkinson's  got  Will  Standish  upon  the 
cliff.  Get  to  him,  Hawkins,  hurry." 

I  needed  no  urging  to  get  to  him  as  soon  as  I  knew. 
Will  Standish — how  came  he  to  be  up  on  the  cliff? 
We  raced  there  together,  the  whole  bunch  of  us.  Ah, 
how  I  thought  as  I  ran  up  that  cliff  path,  of  the  many 
times  we  had  hurried  up  the  same  stones  in  days  past, 
during  those  stormy  times  when  Stoner's  Boy  led  us  a 
merry  chase.  When  we  were  half  way  up  I  heard  again 
that  yell — that  Indian  shout,  that  Pelham  trademark. 
And  then  we  saw. 

Link  Lambert,  the  Skinny  Guy,  lay  upon  his  face 
on  top  of  the  cliff.  My  heart  gave  a  terrible  leap  when 
I  looked  farther  and  saw  Will  Standish  hanging  by  his 
hands  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  the  clumsy  figure 
of  Harkinson  on  his  knees  looking  over  and  taunting 
him  as  he  hung  there.  Harkinson  held  a  stick  in  his 
hands. 

"See  how  good  ye  can  jump,"  he  was  saying,  as  we 
came  up.  "It's  only  thirty  feet  to  the  water,  buddy, 
and  it'll  do  ye  good  to  take  a  plunge.  Go  ahead!" 

Will  Standish  turned  a  white,  pleading  face  up  to 
his  tormentor,  and  struggled  to  lift  himself  from  his 
dangerous  position.  As  he  did  so  Harkinson  moved 
back  and  raised  the  stick. 

"Oh,  ye  won't  do  it,  eh?"  he  sneered  in  his  deep  voice. 
"Then  I'll  have  to  hammer  your  grip  loose." 

He  raised  his  stick  to  strike  the  hands  of  Will  Standish 
as  he  hung  there.  Now,  mind  you,  this  all  happened  as 

30 


-Awt7  Ttert  WE  SAW  LEAP 

THE  T5DC&  ? 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

• 

we  were  coming  up  the  path.  My  heart,  I  say,  was  in 
my  "mouth.  I  feared  the  big  tough  Harkinson  would 
bring  his  stick  down  upon  those  slender  fingers  and 
make  Will  drop.  I  knew  Will  could  stand  a  plunge, 
even  from  thirty  feet,  if  he  were  sure  to  land  in  deep 
water,  but  you  never  can  tell  what  danger  lies  below. 
I  know  these  old  cliffs  and  this  eld  river.  And  I  ran 
faster  so  that  I  drew  ahead  of  the  boys  that  were  run- 
ning with  me.  I  shouted  at  Harkinson.  He  started  to 
turn  his  head  toward  me. 

I  say  he  started.  He  didn't  finish  the  movement, 
because  something  came  hurtling  through  the  air — a  stick 
about  the  size  of  a  cane,  and  it  struck  the  clumsy  Har- 
kinson on  the  back  of  the  head.  He  jumped  up  as 
though  a  bee  stung  him.  One  glance  he  turned  toward 
us — just  one  quick  look — and  then  we  saw  him  leap 
clear  of  the  rock — clear  over  the  hanging  figure  of  Will 
Standish,  and  down,  down,  disappearing  over  the  edge 
of  the  cliff. 

Perry  Stokes  it  was  who  came  running  from  his  hiding 
place.  "Did  I  hit  him?"  he  called.  "I  was  so  excited 
I  couldn't  aim  my  cane  straight." 

"You  hit  him,  all  right,  Perry,"  I  said,  as  we  bent  to 
lift  Will  back  over  the  rock.  "Good  Lord,  Will,  bow 
in  the  world  did  it  happen?" 

"Link  took  me  to  see  the  caves,  and  we  were  coming 
back,"  he  said,  panting  hard  for  his  breath,  "and  we 
ran  into  this."  He  pointed  to  a  contraption  that  was 
fixed  to  a  dead  tree.  "You  see  it  works  as  a  spring. 
A  loop  is  supposed  to  catch  you  as  you  step  on  this 
stone  and  release  the  spring.  But  Link  was  on  that 
side  and  stepped  back  when  he  felt  the  stone  move. 
It  struck  him  on  the  head  and  he  bolted  me,  and  we 
rolled  over  together.  When  I  tried  to  rise,  that  big 

32 


HARKINSON 

•. 

strange  fellow  was  on  my  neck,  rolling  me  over  to  the 
edge,  saying  he  thought  a  little  splash  would  do  me 
good.  My  word,  but  he  gave  me  a  jolly  good  fight 
there  on  the  edge  until  my  footing  let  go  and  I  had  to 
grab  the  edge.  You  boys  came  up  just  in  time.  How's 
Link?" 

"All  right,"  said  Link,  as  he  sat  up,  rubbing  a  big 
lump  on  his  head.  "By  golly,  Hawkins,  it  knocked  me 
out,  didn't  it?" 

"Put  you  to  sleep,  all  right,"  I  laughed.  "I  guess 
we  would  have  been  safer  if  we  had  stayed  in  Cuba, 
Link,  eh,  what?" 

Link  was  smiling.  He  gave  me  a  look  that  I  under- 
stood. 

"Cuba  was  never  like  this,"  he  said.  "You  get 
your  money's  worth  here  in  Kentucky." 

"Excitement?    Yes,"  I  said. 

Well,  it  was  the  first  real  bit  of  excitement  we  had 
had  since  our  return.  But  it  made  me  think  a  heap  more 
of  one  person  in  the  club,  namely  one  overseer  who 
said  "sir"  to  me  all  the  time.  You  know  who  I  mean. 

Harkinson  was  out  of  the  river  and  running  up  the 
Pelham  bank  by  the  time  we  started  down  the  path. 
"I've  got  to  keep  my  eyes  open  for  that  fellow,"  I  said 
to  myself,  "if  he  can  take  leaps  like  that  and  get  away 
with  it.  Harkinson  is  not  a  fellow  to  fool  with." 


38 


IV 

The  Camp  On  the  Island 

"^VT"ES,    Hawkins,    I'm    going    to    get    even    with 

Y    him." 

-•-  It  was  Will  Standish  speaking  to  me,  and  he 
meant  that  fellow  Harkinson,  who  tried  to  make  him 
leap  into  the  river  from  the  cliff. 

"Better  pass  it  up,  Will,"  I  said.  "He  didn't  suc- 
ceed in  making  you  take  the  plunge.  As  it  was,  he  had 
to  leap  into  the  river  himself  to  escape  from  us." 

Will  shook  his  head.  "Makes  no  difference  about 
that,"  he  said.  "I  would  have  gone  over  the  cliff  if 
you  boys  hadn't  come  up  in  time.  And,  what's  more, 
he  would  have  beat  my  fingers  with  his  club  to  make 
me  let  go  my  bold.  That  very  intention  he  had  is  what 
made  me  sore.  I've  a  good  notion  to  take  him  up  there 
and  give  him  the  same  kind  of  treatment  he  gave 
me." 

I  smiled  as  I  glanced  at  Will's  slender  fingers  and 
thought  of  Harkinson. 

"He's  a  great  big  customer  for  you  to  deal  with, 
Will,"  I  said;  "you  had  better  think  it  over.  Remember 
the  big  head  and  shoulders  that  belong  to  this  Har- 
kinson. It  wouldn't  be  an  easy  task  for  you  to  get  him 
up  there  on  the  cliff  and  make  him  hang  from  his  fingers." 

Will  smiled  hack  at  me.  "It  isn't  always  how  strong 
you  are  that  counts,"  he  said,  "and  the  swiftest  person 
doesn't  always  win  a  race:  remember  that,  Hawkins, 
old  boy.  Leave  this  whole  thing  to  me.  See  if  I  don't 
make  Harkinson  swallow  his  own  medicine." 

84 


THE    CAMP    ON    THE    ISLAND 

I  waved  my  hands  and  said: 

"All  right,  just  as  you  will  have  it.  I'd  like  to  save 
you  from  harm,  though." 

"And  it  may  come  to  such  a  pass  that  I'll  have  to 
ask  you  to  help  me,"  he  said;  "but  I  don't  think  so. 
Harkinson  has  great  strength,  Hawkins,  but  he  doesn't 
think.  He  hasn't  much  sense.  I  think  I'll  pull  him 
down  easy." 

"Good  luck  be  with  you,"  I  said,  and  I  turned  back 
to  my  desk  as  Will  went  out.  I  felt  very  uneasy.  I 
had  hoped  that  Will  would  forget  about  the  trick  that 
Harkinson  had  played,  and  that  we  would  steer  clear 
of  all  trouble  from  now  on.  But  I  could  see  more 
trouble  looming  ahead  now.  Yet  I  could  not  say  I 
feared  for  Will  Standish.  All  that  I  had  seen  of  this 
light-hearted  English  boy  led  me  to  believe  that  Tie 
could  take  care  of  himself  in  anything.  But  the  big 
bulk  of  Harkinson  made  me  feel  uneasy.  Not  only 
his  size  and  strength,  but  the  fact  that  he  was  a  Pelham, 
and  the  Pelhams  are  tricky,  unfair  fellows  to  deal  with. 
I  felt  just  as  Will  did  about  getting  even  with  the  big 
bully,  but  I  am  not  one  who  goes  around  hunting 
trouble.  I  always  let  trouble  come  to  me  first,  and  then 
I  try  to  tackle  it  as  best  I  know  how.  However,  I  guess 
all  boys  can't  be  alike. 

Link  Lambert  overslept  himself  that  morning  and  came 
down  to  the  clubhouse  very  late,  long  after  our  meeting 
was  over,  and  all  the  other  boys  down  on  the  river  in  their 
canoes.  But  the  Skinny  Guy  had  a  smile  when  he 
came  in.  I  said:  "Hello,  Link,  you're  late,"  and  kept 
on  writing  in  my  new  book. 

He  sat  down  opposite  my  desk  and  watched  me 
write,  as  though  he  did  not  want  to  talk  and  bother  me. 
But  his  silence  got  on  my  nerves  finally.  I  looked  up. 

35 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Well,"  I  said,  "y°u  had  better  stayed  in  bed. 
You're  sound  asleep,  I  think." 

"Not  much,"  he  grinned,  rubbing  his  eyes;  "I'm 
just  quiet;  I  don't  want  to  butt  in  while  you're  working. 
I'll  wait  till  you're  finished." 

"I'm  finished  whenever  you're  ready  to  talk,"  I 
said,  laying  down  my  pen.  "There's  something  on  your 
mind,  Link.  I  know  you  like  a  book.  Let's  have  it 
out  right  away." 

"I  want  to  ask  you  if  you'd  care,"  said  Link,  "if 
we  boys  would  put  up  a  tent  and  camp  out  for  a  few 
days." 

"Care!"  I  exclaimed.  "As  if  I  had  any  right  to 
stop  you.  But  Link,  where'd  we  get  the  tent?  There's 
not  enough  money  left  in  our  tin  can  to  buy  a  second- 
hand haircut.  The  boys  spent  every  cent  for  flags  and 
fireworks." 

"I  know,"  said  Link,  "but  my  daddy  promised  me 
one,  and  it's  just  arrived  from  Watertown.  He  says 
we  can  camp  out  if  you  say  so." 

"Fine,  Link,"  I  said;  "your  dad's  a  real  fellow.  Can 
we  get  the  tent  right  away?" 

"Sure.  It's  up  in  Doc  Waters's  office  waiting  for  us. 
Suppose  we  take  it  down  to  Seven  Willows  Island.  You 
know  we  had  a  lot  of  fun  there  last  summer." 

I  frowned.  We  had  a  lot  of  fun  there,  yes;  but  we 
had  a  lot  of  trouble  and  scares  there,  too.  But  Link 
saw  what  was  passing  through  my  mind. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "We  are  bigger  than  we 
were  last  year.  We  won't  be  so  easily  frightened, 
Hawkins.  I  think  we  ought  to  be  able  to  take  care  of 
ourselves." 

"All  right,"  I  said,  "go  down  and  tell  the  boys. 
Have  them  go  with  you  and  fetch  the  tent,  and  we  had 

36 


THE    CAMP    ON    THE    ISLAND 

better  take  some  things  along.  Get  some  pots  and 
pans  and  something  to  cook.  Also  all  the  baseball 
things,  and  don't  forget  the  fishing  tackle.  You'll 
find  mine  put  away  hi  Doc  Waters's  tin  box.  Ask  Doc 
if  he  will  let  you  have  that  shotgun  we  took  away 
from  Rufe  Rogers." 

It  was  about  an  hour  later  when  I  finished  my 
writing  and  put  my  pen  and  ink  away  and  locked  my 
desk.  I  put  on  my  hat  and  went  out  onto  the  porch, 
locking  the  door,  and  as  I  did  so  Link  came  up  the  river 
path. 

"Everything's  ready,  Hawkins,"  he  said.  "I  was 
just  coming  to  get  you.  We're  ready  to  start  for  the 
island." 

"How  about  Doc  Waters?    Is  he  going  along?" 

"No,  he  said  he  would  tell  your  daddy  where  you 
are  going,  and  it  will  be  all  right.  He's  fixing  it  for  the 
other  fellows,  too." 

We  walked  down  to  the  river.  A  half  dozen  canoes 
were  being  paddled  around,  each  one  filled  with  camp- 
ing things.  The  boys  hailed  us  when  we  came  in  sight, 
and  I  could  see  they  were  all  as  happy  as  humming 
birds.  In  the  long,  green  canoe  which  belonged  to 
Jerry  Moore,  and  which  was  the  roomiest  of  all,  was 
packed  the  white  duck  which  was  to  make  the  tent, 
while  floating  behind  it  in  the  water,  tied  to  the  canoe 
with  ropes,  were  the  tent  poles.  Jerry  and  Bill  Darby 
had  very  little  room  in  which  to  sit  and  paddle  the  long 
boat,  but  they  managed  a  hard  job  in  the  best  possible 
manner.  I  got  in  a  canoe  which  Dick  Ferris  paddled, 
and  Link  went  in  Johnny  McLarren's,  and  then  I 
shouted  to  Lew  Hunter  and  little  Frankie  Kane,  who 

37 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

sat  in  the  first  canoe,  to  start  ahead,  and  away  we  all 
went  to  the  island. 

"Where's  Will  Standish,  Dick?"  I  asked  as  we  pad- 
dled along. 

"He's  been  gone  all  morning,"  said  Dick.  "Perry 
Stokes  went  with  him.  Perry  asked  to  go." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  and  then  I  fell  silent,  thinking  it  over. 
What  scheme  had  Will  in  his  mind  now,  taking  Perry 
along  with  him,  I  thought  to  myself.  Surely  it  can  be 
nothing  but  a  plan  to  catch  that  bully,  Harkinson,  as 
Will  had  told  me  he  would  do.  But  think  as  I  would 
I  could  not  figure  out  just  how  Will  intended  to  do  it. 
Perhaps  Perry,  who  knew  more  of  Harkinson's  habits, 
would  be  able  to  hunt  him  down,  and  then  leave  it  to  Will 
to  do  the  rest.  If  both  Will  and  Perry  were  after  him 
I  knew  sure  that  Harkinson  was  bound  to  get  what 
was  coming  to  him. 

"Do  you  think  one  of  us  should  wait  here  with  a 
canoe  for  Will  and  Perry?"  asked  Dick.  "No,"  I  said, 
"Doc  Waters  knows  where  we  are.  He  will  tell  Will. 
Anyway,  we  will  have  to  return  before  dark,  as  we 
haven't  anything  to  make  beds  with,  and  it  won't  do 
for  us  to  sleep  on  the  ground  without  blankets." 

We  paddled  down  to  the  island  in  about  twenty 
minutes.  It  was  a  great  treat  for  the  boys  to  make  a 
camp.  How  they  hustled  in  unpacking  the  loads  and 
clearing  a  space  for  the  tent.  They  seemed  to  have 
brought  everything  that  was  needed,  too.  While  some 
of  them  were  cutting  away  the  high  grass  and  weeds 
where  the  tent  was  to  be  pitched,  the  others  were  open- 
ing the  packs,  spreading  the  canvas  in  the  sun,  digging 
holes  for  the  tent  poles,  and  getting  the  stakes  and 
ropes  ready  to  hoist  the  tent.  It  made  me  feel  good  to 
see  them  work  like  that.  I  helped  all  I  could,  but  I 

38 


THE    CAMP    ON    THE    ISLAND 

don't  count  much  when  it  comes  to  work  of  that  kind. 
They  don't  seem  to  want  me  to  do  any  of  that  kind  of 
work,  either.  They  have  always  had  me  for  their  Seck- 
atary,  and  from  what  they  told  me  when  I  came  back 
from  Cuba,  I  was  to  be  their  Seckatary  forever,  and  I 
guess  they  think  that  I  am  doing  my  share  when  I  do 
the  Seckatary  work,  although  anybody  could  do  it  if 
he  knows  how  to  hold  a  pen  and  write  plain. 

Just  as  Dick  gave  the  word  to  "Pull  away"  on  the 
ropes  and  the  tent  came  up  to  the  top  of  the  poles,  I 
saw  a  skiff  coming  toward  the  shore.  It  wasn't  the  skiff 
that  caught  my  eye  as  much  as  the  fellow  who  rowed 
it.  It  was  Harkinson !  He  rowed  swiftly,  and  soon  the 
nose  of  the  skiff  shoved  itself  into  the  muddy  bank, 
and  he  dropped  the  oars  in  the  locks  and  sprang  upon 
the  bank.  The  boys  had  not  seen  him,  they  were  so 
interested  in  rigging  up  the  tent,  and  they  went  right 
ahead  fastening  the  ropes  to  the  stakes. 

"What  you  call  this?"  yelled  Harkinson,  gazing 
upon  us  with  an  angry  face.  The  boys  all  turned 
quickly  and  saw  Harkinson. 

"What  do  you  think  it  looks  like?"  I  answered, 
looking  just  as  angry  as  he  did.  "This  is  a  tent,  and  we 
intend  to  camp  here  for  a  few  days." 

"Oh,  do  you?"  sneered  Harkinson,  hi  a  rough  voice. 
"Well,  let  me  tell  you  this  island  is  tooken;  it  belongs 
to  the  Pelham  boys  this  season,  being  as  we  were  the 
first  to  come.  We  got  our  camp  up  the  other  end  o' 
this  island,  and  we  don't  want  no  neighbors.  See? 
You  guys  will  make  us  very  happy  by  pulling  up  your 
stakes  and  beating  it  back  to  where  you  come  from. 
If  you  ain't  gone  by  to-morrow — well,  you'd  better 
be,  that's  all." 

He  said  no  more;  turned,  rushed  back  into  his  skiff, 
39 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

and  was  off  up  the  river  as  fast  as  his  oars  would  take 
him.  The  boys  stared  at  him,  not  knowing  whether 
to  do  as  he  said  or  not.  "Go  ahead  with  the  work, 
boys,"  I  said.  "That  bully  can't  frighten  us  away. 
We  know  the  Pelham  fellows.  They  were  the  same  last 
year.  Dick,  you  stay  here  and  see  that  the  tent  is 
finished  and  fastened  down  tight.  Then  you  better 
take  everything  else  back  with  you  when  you  come  home. 
I'll  take  Lew  Hunter  along  with  me  and  we  will  follow 
this  Harkinson  to  see  what  mischief  he  might  be  up  to." 

Lew  jumped  into  the  canoe  with  me,  and  I  waited 
and  watched  through  the  bushes  until  I  had  seen  the 
skiff  turn  the  upper  bend  of  the  river.  Then  we  started 
paddling  slowly,  as  I  did  not  want  to  get  too  close  to 
Harkinson,  or  have  him  think  he  was  being  followed. 
He  faced  us  as  he  rowed  the  skiff,  but  he  did  not  seem 
to  watch  us  particularly.  I  supposed  he  just  imagined 
we  were  coming  back  because  he  had  told  us  to  clear 
off  the  island.  But  when  we  turned  the  bend  and  first 
came  into  view  of  the  skiff  he  seemed  not  to  notice  us 
at  all.  Lew  Hunter  said  he  thought  Harkinson  was 
going  back  to  get  the  Pelham  fellows  to  chase  us  off  the 
island.  Then  all  of  a  sudden — 

But  wait,  I'm  going  too  fast.  We  had  paddled 
almost  up  to  our  landing  place  at  the  home  bank,  when 
Lew,  who  was  paddling  in  front  suddenly  stopped  and 
exclaimed: 

"Good  Lord,  where  did  he  go?" 

I  quickly  turned  my  gaze  upon  the  skiff  ahead  of  us. 
It  was  empty.  The  oars  were  lying  idle  in  the  oar- 
locks and  the  skiff  was  drifting  out  into  the  current. 
We  were  just  passing  the  cliffs,  and  our  canoe  was  close 
to  the  rocky  sides.  I  heard  a  shout  from  the  top  of  the 
cliff,  and  we  both  looked  up  together.  Two  heads  were 

40 


THE    CAMP    ON    THE    ISLAND 


peeping  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff.   One 
was  Will  Standish  and  the  other  Perry 
Stokes/   But  the  strangest  sight  of  all 
was  Harkinson.    Guess  where  he  was? 
Hanging  like  a  doll  baby  on  a  Christ- 
mas tree — hanging  from  a  rope  that 
came  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff  and 
caught  him  around  the  chest,  fasten- 
ing his  arms  to  his  sides  at  the  elbows. 
Will  Standish  was  laughing,  and  Perry 
Stokes  was  shouting  something  down 
to  us — but  I  didn't  listen.    I  was  only 
worried  about  Harkinson.     Suppose 
that  rope  should  slip  up  and  catch 
around  his  neck  and  choke  him !    But 
Harkinson,   although  he  must  have 
been    surprised   when   the    loop   fell 
around  him  and  yanked  him  out  of 
his  skiff,   was  working  furiously   to 
get  free  from  his 
bonds,  and  succeed- 
ed in  getting  one 
arm  out,  and  then 
the  boys  up  on  top 
began   to  pull  him 
up — but  it  was  too 
late;    they    had  let 
the  fish  nibble  too 
long,  and  they  lost 
it.     For  Harkinson 
snatched  something 
bright  from  his  belt, 
shining  knife,  and  with  his  one  loose 
arm  he  slashed  at  the  rope.   It  only 

41 


I  saw  it  was  a 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

took  a  second,  and  it  happened  too  quickly  for  all 
of  us.  The  only  thing  I  can  remember  now  is  the 
loud  splash  as  Harkinson  came  falling  plump  into  the 
river  not  five  feet  from  our  canoe.  Oh,  boy!  how 
Lew  and  I  worked  to  keep  the  canoe  right  side  up 
in  all  that  churning  water!  Harkinson  disappeared 
under  the  water  like  a  lump  of  lead,  and  we  waited 
anxiously  for  him  to  come  up,  but  we  were  fooled,  for 
he  must  have  swum  at  least  fifty  feet  upstream  before 
his  head  came  bobbing  up.  He  lifted  himself  clear  of 
the  water  for  a  second  and  shook  his  fist  at  the  two 
boys  on  top  of  the  cliff,  then  he  swam  a  bit  further  and 
climbed  out  onto  the  shore.  In  two  shakes  of  a  rabbit's 
tail  he  was  gone  through  the  green  bushes  on  the  Pel- 
ham  side. 

We  waited  there  for  Will  and  Perry,  and  they  came 
down  in  a  few  minutes,  laughing  and  happy.  "I  told 
you  I'd  get  even  with  him,"  said  Will  to  me.  "Yes,"  I 
said,  "but  one  dive  more  or  less  don't  mean  anything  to 
Harkinson.  He  seems  to  like  high  dives  into  the  water, 
Will.  But  I  believe  you  have  just  made  matters  worse. 
You'd  better  look  out  for  his  next  move  now.  Har- 
kinson is  a  pretty  tough  customer." 

Will  laughed.  "Oh,  all  right,  Hawkins,"  he  said, 
"you  don't  think  I  am  equal  to  him,  I  suppose.  But  he 
only  tricked  me  the  day  I  wasn't  looking  for  anything 
of  that  kind.  Let  him  try  another  stunt  like  that.  If 
I  get  licked  then,  why  I'll  admit  he's  too  much  for 
me." 

Somehow  I  couldn't  believe  that  Harkinson  would 
get  the  best  of  Will  Standish  any  more.  The  way  they 
yanked  the  big  Pelham  fellow  out  of  his  skiff  was  a 
clever  thing.  They  had  been  watching  there  on  the 
cliff  all  day,  Will  and  Perry,  for  just  such  a  chance. 

42 


THE   CAMP   ON    THE    ISLAND 

They  had  seen  Harkinson  go  down  in  his  skiff,  and  were 
ready  with  their  loop  when  he  came  back.  And  Har- 
kinson never  will  forget  the  jolt  he  got  when  he  was 
jerked  up  and  his  skiff  drifted  away  from  under  him. 
We  all  had  a  good  laugh  about  it  when  the  other 
boys  came  back  that  evening. 


V 

The  Woodchoppers 

WE  HELD  our  meeting  in  the  clubhouse  early 
next  morning  before  going  down  to  our  camp 
on  the  island.  Doc  Waters  had  promised  us 
blankets  in  which  to  sleep,  and  Johnny  McLarren  and 
Bill  Darby  had  gone  for  a  basketful  of  canned  goods  and 
provisions  for  our  meals  while  we  lived  in  the  tent. 
Lew  Hunter  had  a  big  cardboard  box  under  his  arm 
when  he  came  into  the  clubhouse,  and  I  asked  him 
what  he  was  taking  along  to  the  island  with  him. 

"Music,"  he  said,  smiling.  "We've  got  to  have  some 
singing.  The  preacher  gave  it  to  me  for  my  birthday. 
Want  to  see  it?" 

He  quickly  untied  the  string  and  took  off  the  lid  of 
the  box.  It  was  a  fancy  accordion. 

"Good  night!"  I  said.  "Nobody  will  get  any  sleep 
in  the  camp  as  long  as  that  doodlesack  stays  there." 

"Why,"  he  said,  "music  is  good  for  you.  I  can  play 
it.  Want  to  hear  me?" 

"No,  thanks;  not  just  now,  Lew.  We  will  try  it 
out  down  on  the  island.  I  didn't  mean  to  say  you 
couldn't  play  it.  But  you  know  our  fellows.  As  soon 
as  you  lay  that  thing  down  one  of  the  boys  will  be  try- 
ing it  to  see  how  it  works.  And  what's  worse  than  noise 
from  an  instrument  when  it  falls  into  the  hands  of  a 
fellow  who  doesn't  know  how  to  play  it?" 

"I'll  take  care  of  that,"  said  Lew. 

Doc  Waters  arrived  with  the  blankets  in  his  auto- 
mobile, and  we  transferred  them  to  the  canoes.  The 

44 


THE    WOODCHOPPERS 

boys  were  anxious  to  be  off,  and  so  I  told  Lew  Hunter 
and  Jerry  Moore  to  boss  the  trip  and  start  ahead  of 
me.  "I  will  wait  for  Johnny  and  Bill,"  I  said. 

After  they  had  gone  Doc  came  into  my  little  office 
with  me  and  sat  down  while  I  finished  writing  about 
the  meeting  and  checking  up  the  dues. 

"Are  you  coming  along,  Doc?"  I  asked. 

"I  guess  not  now,  Hawkins,"  he  said;  "although  the 
Lord  knows  I'd  like  nothing  better  than  to  spend  a 
few  days  with  you  boys  on  the  island.  But  I've  got 
some  matters  to  attend  to  in  town  for  Link's  people. 
I've  just  settled  for  the  place  down  in  Kentucky.  I 
guess  you  boys  will  say  good-bye  to  Link  pretty 
soon." 

I  felt  a  lump  rise  in  my  throat  when  he  said  that. 
I  couldn't  help  it.  I  knew  Link  was  no  longer  one  of 
us.  He  had  much  to  do  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  for 
the  days  his  daddy  had  let  him  wander  around  without 
any  schooling.  His  folks  were  rich  now.  Link  simply 
could  not  be  one  of  us  any  longer.  Gosh,  how  I  wished 
we  could  have  stayed  the  same  bunch  of  happy  young- 
sters that  we  were  a  couple  of  years  ago!  But  then  that 
was  selfish  wishing,  for  in  that  case  Link  would  not  have 
found  his  mother,  nor  would  his  mother  have  been 
rescued  from  the  sufferings  she  had  been  enduring  for 
so  many  years. 

"Yep,"  I  said,  "I  guess  we  will  have  to  lose  him, 
Doc.  But  I  hate  to  see  him  go.  I've  been  with  him  so 
long,  Doc,  that  he  is  a  sort  of  brother  to  me." 

"But  he  won't  be  far  away,  and  you  can  visit  him," 
said  Doc;  "in  fact,  I  don't  think  Link  will  be  able  to 
remain  away  from  here  very  long.  He  will  be  popping 
up  here  every  once  in  a  while.  He  has  a  sort  of  a  restless 
nature.  He  likes  to  wander.  You  will  remember  how 

45 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

he  was  when  you  first  met  him — always  off  somewhere 
and  gone  for  days  at  a  time." 

"I'd  like  to  bring  back  the  old  days,"  I  said  dreamily, 
looking  up  at  the  ceiling. 

"I  want  you  to  go  with  him  when  they  start  for  their 
new  home,"  said  Doc,  rising  and  putting  on  his  hat. 
"By  the  way,  I  received  a  fine  letter  from  Uncle  Lucio. 
He  sends  you  his  love." 

"Dear  old  Lucio,"  I  smiled.  "Lord,  how  I  liked  that 
man,  Doc.  Write  to  him  that  I  want  to  see  him  up  here 
soon.  Tell  him  we  will  show  him  a  fine  time." 

"Good-by,"  said  Doc.  "I'll  write  that  sure."  Then, 
turning,  he  said  in  a  low  tone:  "About  that  camp: 
You  know  I'll  depend  upon  you  to  keep  order." 

I  saluted  him  and  answered:  "Righto.  Depend  upon 
me.  I'll  take  the  blame  for  anything  that  goes  wrong. 
I've  got  faith  in  my  boys  now,  Doc,  more  than  I  ever 
had  before." 

Doc  nodded.  "I  can  trust  you,  Hawkins,"  he  said. 
"You  know  that  the  parents  of  these  youngsters  all 
blame  me  if  anything  goes  wrong.  I'm  always  the  one 
begging  them  to  let  the  kids  go  and  have  a  good  time. 
I  guess  I  ought  to  have  better  sense." 

I  grasped  Doc's  hand.  "You've  been  a  prince  to  us, 
Doc,"  I  said  warmly.  "You're  just  the  kind  of  a  man 
boys  are  looking  for;  but  very  few  of  them  find  one  like 
you." 

Doc  laughed  his  funny  little  laugh.  "Same  old 
Hawkins,"  he  said.  "You  like  to  jolly  a  person.  Well, 
I'll  leave  it  to  you.  I  want  to  see  you  boys  have  all  the 
fun  you  can  while  you  are  boys.  I  missed  most  of  it 
when  I  was  a  kid.  So  I'm  getting  my  fun  now  with  you 
boys.  I  guess  I'm  just  a  boy  myself;  never  will  grow 
up;  and,  what's  more,  if  growing  up  means  to  keep 

46 


THE    WOODCHOPPERS 

away  from  all  these  things  that  makes  boys  have  a 
good  time,  I  don't  want  to  grow  up." 

He  walked  quickly  up  the  path  toward  the  main 
road.  I  watched  him  with  a  smile  until  the  high  grass 
shut  out  the  view.  What  a  fine  man  old  Doc  Waters 
was!  Boys,  I'll  never  forget  Doc  Waters,  even  if  I 
grow  to  be  a  wrinkled  old  man  with  a  beard  down  to 
my  knees. 

Now  I  went  back  into  my  little  office  and  wished 
Bill  and  Johnny  would  hurry  and  come  soon.  I  admit 
I  was  anxious  to  get  to  our  camp.  Not  that  I  expected 
to  have  such  a  fine  time,  but  I  did  want  to  be  near 
them  to  see  that  nothing  happened.  The  thought  of 
Harkinson  came  back  to  me  so  often  that  I  grew  nervous, 
Harkinson  had  warned  us — Harkinson  was  a  Pelham. 

Just  then  I  felt  relieved,  for  I  heard  steps  on  the 
porch  and  heard  voices  which  I  immediately  took  for 
Bill  and  Johnny.  "It's  about  time,"  I  called  out. 

And  then  the  curtains  parted — and  I  looked  up. 
Standing  there  was  Harold  Court  and  his  brother 
Oliver,  the  twins. 

"Hawkins!"  shouted  Harold,  "dear  old  Hawkins. 
Well  this  is  a  surprise.  Glad  to  see  you,  old  boy,"  and 
he  clapped  his  left  hand  upon  my  shoulder  and  shook 
my  hand  with  his  right.  Oliver,  too,  came  over  quickly 
and  grabbed  my  hand,  both  of  them  talking  at  the 
same  time. 

"Surprise?"  I  said.  "You're  not  nearly  so  surprised 
as  I  am.  Where  in  the  world  did  you  twins  come  from? 
I  haven't  seen  you  since  last  summer  about  this  time. 
You  remember  when  Stoner's  Boy  was  making  it  hot 
for  us  around  here?" 

Harold  laughed.  "I'll  never  forget  those  days,"  he 
said.  "We  were  back  here  at  Christmas,  but  you  were 

47 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

down  in  Cuba  then.    We  missed  you  awfully  on  Christ- 
mas   Eve.     It   didn't    seem    like    Christmas    without 

you." 

"Thanks,"  I  said;  "but  you  can't  imagine  how  lone- 
some I  was  down  there  in  Cuba  on  Christmas  Eve. 
I  had  to  forget  it  was  Christmas  time;  every  time  I 
thought  about  it  it  made  me  blue." 

"Well,  we  are  glad  to  see  you  back  with  us,"  said 
Oliver.  "We  thought  we  would  surprise  the  boys  this 
year,  and  so  we  didn't  let  them  know  when  we  were 
coming  back.  We  went  right  to  our  uncle's  home  in 
Philadelphia  as  soon  as  school  let  out,  and  we  stayed 
there  till  about  a  week  ago.  We  stopped  off  at  a  few 
places  on  our  route  and  arrived  home  last  night." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I'd  been  wondering  about  you,  and 
asked  Dick  Ferris,  and  he  said  you  two  were  going  to 
spend  the  whole  summer  in  Philadelphia.  But  I'm 
glad  you  changed  your  minds." 

"You  know  we  couldn't  stay  away  all  summer," 
said  Harold.  "What's  new?  Has  anything  ever  been 
heard  of  Stoner's  Boy?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "No,"  I  said,  slowly;  "never  since 
he  fell  down  the  pit  in  the  cave.  We  found  the  big 
bat  that  caused  him  to  fall.  I  suppose  you  heard  how 
it  was  killed  by  Robby  Hood,  a  boy  from  Watertown 
who  used  to  come  down  here  to  play  with  us?" 

"Yes,"  said  Harold,  "we  heard  about  that.  But  I 
suppose  it  is  best  for  us  now;  it  is  not  nice  to  have  some- 
body laying  for  the  boys  all  the  time." 

I  smiled.  "Oh,  I  don't  know,"  I  said.  "It  gives  the 
boys  something  to  think  about.  It  keeps  them  out  of 
fighting  amongst  themselves.  I  wouldn't  mind  if  some 
other  fellow  took  a  notion  to  hit  our  trail.  I  think  it's 
sport  in  a  way." 

48 


THE    WOODCHOPPERS 

Harold  sat  down  and  leaned  across  the  desk  to- 
ward me. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "I  believe  your  trip  to  Cuba  has  made 
you  a  bit  reckless,  Hawkins.  But  I  think  I  can  promise 
you  some  sport,  as  you  call  it.  We  spent  yesterday  at 
Watertown.  Oliver  insisted  upon  seeing  the  water 
front  down  there,  where  we  used  to  land  on  our  trips 
up  from  here.  So  we  took  a  trip  down  there  and  stopped 
in  a  little  store  on  our  way  back  to  get  a  drink.  While 
we  sat  at  a  table  we  heard  three  boys  talking  at  a  table 
next  to  us.  They  talked  low,  but  I  heard.  And  one  of 
them  mentioned  you.  He  called  you  'that  Hawkins 
fella,'  and  he  also  spoke  of  a  light-haired  boy  whose 
name  he  didn't  know.  He  said  he  would  get  you." 

"What  else  did  he  say?"  I  asked. 

"We  paid  our  bill  and  left.  I  don't  know  whether 
it  means  anything  or  not.  The  fellow  who  spoke  your 
name  looked  like  a  bad  egg." 

"What  did  he  look  like?" 

"Oh,  a  peculiar-looking  chap  with  long  arms  and  a 
big  head — " 

"Harkinson,"  I  said;  "Harkinson  it  was.  He  has 
been  here  once  or  twice.  If  you  boys  will  come  with 
me  I  would  like  to  take  you  to  the  island.  We  have 
a  camp  there." 

"Glad  to  go,"  said  Harold.  "I  had  a  notion  that  you 
had  put  up  a  tent  around  here  some  place." 

So  I  did  not  wait  for  Bill  and  Johnny.  We  took  one 
of  the  canoes  and  started  for  the  island.  I  had  a  worri- 
some idea  that  Harkinson  might  be  up  to  mischief,  and 
I  was  anxious  to  be  with  my  boys  at  the  camp.  As  we 
went  I  related  to  the  twins  the  experience  we  had  had 
with  Harkinson. 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

What  a  pretty  sight  it  was — that  little  camp  on  the 
south  bank  of  the  island.  While  the  other  boys  were 
greeting  the  twins,  whom  they  had  not  seen  for  a  long 
time,  I  stood  off  a  distance  and  gave  it  all  the  once  over. 
The  white  tent  set  in  a  clearing  in  the  midst  of  green 
trees  and  bushes  was  an  inviting  place;  the  canoes, 
some  moored  to  saplings  and  others  upside  down  on 
the  bank;  the  little  stove  with  its  sorry-looking  smoke- 
stack, which  sent  a  thin  stream  of  smoke  skyward;  the 
little  square  of  silk  with  the  stars  and  stripes  flying  from 
the  center  pole,  and  over  all  the  song  of  the  million 
birds  that  lived  in  the  treetops  roundabout.  Yeah,  this 
was  a  fine  place  for  vacation  and  a  rest. 

But  shucks!  The  minute  I  think  of  rest  the  word 
Pelham  pops  into  my  mind.  How  is  anyone  going  to 
have  rest  and  quiet  where  Pelham  fellows  roam?  Har- 
kinson!  Something  about  that  fellow  made  me  worry. 
I  did  not  trust  him. 

"Hawkins,"  sang  out  Jerry  Moore,  "are  you  going 
to  stand  there  dreaming  all  day?  How  about  a  game 
of  ball?" 

I  excused  myself,  but  I  told  them  to  go  ahead  and 
play.  There  was  plenty  of  time  till  the  lunch  hour. 
Harold  came  over  to  me  as  the  other  boys  trotted  away 
with  the  balls  and  bats. 

"Have  you  an  idea?"  he  asked  me. 

"You  mean  about  Harkinson?" 

"Yes.  He  is  here.  You  can  bet  your  bottom  dime 
on  that.  Listen!"  A  distant  sound  came  to  our  ears. 
It  was  the  sound  of  an  ax  falling  upon  wood.  "Wood- 
choppers,"  said  Harold. 

"It's  Harkinson,"  said  I.     "Come  on." 

Together  we  threaded  our  way  through  the  thick 
wild  growth  and  sped  toward  the  sound  of  the  wood- 

50 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

chopping.  The  distance  was  greater  than  it  seemed 
when  first  we  heard  the  sound.  But  at  length  we  stopped 
short  and  peered  through  the  foliage.  Pelham  was 
there — not  fifty  feet  from  us — all  of  Pelham  as  I  knew 
it  before  I  left  for  Cuba.  There  was  Briggen,  the  leader, 
and  Dave  Burns  and  Ham  Gardner,  and  all  the  others 
of  less  importance,  chopping,  chopping.  But  not  Har- 
kinson!  I  quickly  passed  from  one  face  to  another,  and 
I  felt  relieved  to  know  that  Harkinson  was  not  there. 
Down  came  a  medium-sized  tree  with  a  crash.  The 
choppers  moved  at  once  to  another  and  began  to  chop. 
The  other  Pelhams  lifted  the  fallen  tree  and  began  to 
strip  it  of  its  branches.  Then  I  noticed  something  built 
well  back  into  the  wildwood  that  had  skipped  my  eye 
— a  sort  of  fortress  built  of  newly  chopped  logs — a 
stockade,  as  it  were,  like  the  old  settlers  used  to  build 
to  guard  against  the  Indians.  I  noticed  Harold  sizing 
up  the  fortress  with  as  much  interest  as  I  had.  Then 
he  whispered  to  me: 

"The  Pelhams  intend  to  hold  their  own.  They  will 
never  be  driven  out  of  that  stronghold.  Oh,  look, 
Hawkins.  There  he  is,  by  George!" 

I  had  seen  him.  Even  before  Harold  spoke  I  had 
seen  him.  Harkinson  had  risen  from  behind  the  stockade 
and  was  standing  on  top  of  the  highest  log. 

"Git  bigger  trees,"  he  shouted,  pointing  to  the 
choppers.  "What  you  cutting  the  small  ones  for? 
Git  bigger  trees." 

That  harsh  voice!  Those  long  arms  that  moved 
like  windmills!  That  big  head  topped  with  tangled 
hair,  set  squarely  upon  those  heavy  shoulders,  gave 
Harkinson  the  appearance  of  a  great  monkey,  and  the 
background  of  forest  made  it  seem  all  the  more  so. 
Something  about  him  made  me  fear.  I  felt  the  same 

52 


THE    WOODC HOPPERS 

trembling  now  as  I  felt  that  midnight  in  Cuba  when  1 
saw  the  greenish  face  of  old  Elam  looking  through  my 
window. 

"Come,"  I  whispered,  taking  Harold's  arm.  Silently 
we  slipped  back  to  our  camp  and  sat  down  by  the  side 
of  the  river. 

"Well,"  said  Harold,  "it's  either  go  back  at  once  or 
stay  here  and  fight  the  Pelhams.  Do  you  think  we  had 
better  break  camp,  Hawkins,  or  would  you  wait  and 
see  what  happens?" 

"You  don't  know  me,  Harold,"  I  said.  "There's 
no  going  back  in  me.  I'm  for  always  going  forward. 
I'll  stay.  But  I'm  afraid  of  that  Harkinson — I'll  admit 
it  to  you." 

Harold  remained  silent  a  while.  Only  the  sound  of 
our  boys  playing  ball  a  short  distance  away  came  to 
our  ears — that  and  the  chopping,  and  the  occasional 
fall  of  a  tree  in  the  other  direction  where  the  wood- 
choppers  were  still  at  it. 

"He's  a  big  fellow,  all  right,"  said  Harold;  "but  it 
isn't  his  size  that  scares  me.  What  is  it,  Hawkins?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said.  "Perhaps  we  shall  find  out 
soon  enough." 

Which  we  did. 


58 


VI 

Singing  by  the  Campfire 

FOR  two  days  we  had  rest  and  quiet  in  our  camp 
on  the  island.  We  did  not  move  far  from  our 
tent,  only  going  to  the  clearing  for  our  ball 
games,  and  using  a  little  pool  nearby  for  our  swimming. 
Doc  Waters  came  down  the  second  day  and  umpired 
a  game  of  ball  for  us  and  helped  Roy  Dobel  cook  our 
meals.  Roy  is  the  best  cook  in  our  club.  He  knows 
how  to  make  all  kinds  of  meals.  I  suppose  if  we  didn't 
have  Roy  Dobel  most  of  us  would  be  pretty  hungry 
at  times,  for  I  don't  think  there  is  another  boy  in  the 
bunch  who  can  do  more  than  boil  water. 

Our  boys  did  not  go  near  the  Pelham  camp  on  the 
north  end  of  the  island.  I  laid  down  the  rules  as  soon 
as  I  found  out  that  the  Pelhams  were  camped  there. 
I  told  them  that  the  first  boy  who  went  away  from  our 
camp  without  leave  would  be  sent  back  home,  and  maybe 
thrown  out  of  the  club  altogether.  It  isn't  nice  to  say 
such  things  to  boys  like  mine,  but  just  think  what 
trouble  they  might  have  gotten  into  if  they  did  wander 
into  the  Pelham  camp.  Sometimes  we  must  make  rules 
that  seem  awfully  harsh  because  it  is  one  way  to  keep 
peace  and  happiness.  Those  rules  which  seem  hardest 
are  always  those  which  do  the  most  good  for  us. 

I  never  enjoyed  a  camp  so  much  as  I  did  this  one. 
The  boys  were  all  so  jolly  and  full  of  fun,  and  Doc 
Waters  seemed  like  one  of  the  boys,  too.  After  supper 
the  first  night  Lew  Hunter  brought  out  his  accordion 
and  began  to  play  some  tunes.  At  first,  when  the  boys 

54 


SINGING    BY    THE    CAMPFIRE 

saw  him  with  that  funny  old  music  box,  they  laughed 
and  made  fun  of  it.  But  Lew  just  smiled  and  took  every- 
thing good  natured.  And  when  he  started  to  play — say, 
you  just  ought  to  have  seen  those  fellows  change  their 
mind.  Lew  is  a  born  musician.  I  don't  think  there  is 
any  kind  of  an  instrument  he  can't  play,  unless  it  is  a 
horn.  I  never  heard  him  play  a  trombone,  nor  a  cornet, 
nor  a  clarinet.  But  I  think  more  of  him  for  that,  be- 
cause I  never  thought  much  of  such  music,  which 
sounds  more  like  noise  to  me.  But  here  he  was  playing 
an  old  accordion,  and  it  sounded  like  an  organ — just  as 
soft  and  sweet.  He  struck  up  a  few  bars  first  just  to 
see  how  the  old  thing  was  tuned,  I  guess,  and  then,  as 
all  the  fellows  stopped  their  laughing  and  it  began  to 
be  quiet,  except  for  the  noise  of  the  frogs  and  the  crickets, 
Lew  swung  into  the  good  old  tune  of  "  'Way  Down 
Upon  the  Swanee  River,"  and  he  played  it  soft  and  slow, 
just  as  pretty  as  if  he  had  practiced  it  for  a  month,  which 
I  know  he  had  not.  The  boys  sat  there,  some  with  their 
elbows  on  their  knees  and  their  chins  in  their  hands, 
looking  at  Lew  as  he  worked  the  accordion  back  and 
forth  and  made  it  produce  such  sweet  music.  Doc 
Waters  was  sitting  in  the  rear,  with  his  knee  clasped  in 
his  folded  hands,  swinging  back  and  forth  in  time  to  the 
music  and  smiling  as  if  it  made  him  happy.  I  thought 
then  of  the  awful  times  Doc  and  I  and  Skinny  Link  bad 
gone  through  just  a  couple  of  months  ago,  and  I  did  not 
wonder  that  the  Swanee  River  song  brought  back  to 
mind  how  happy  we  all  were  to  get  back  to  our  own 
river  again,  with  our  own  folks,  and  where  we  could  live 
in  peace  and  safety. 

Lew  brought  the  song  to  an  end  with  a  crash  of 
harmony — you  know  what  I  mean — a  lot  of  chords. 
Lew  knows  how  to  do  that  to  make  it  sound  fine.  I 

55 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

think  it  brought  the  boys  into  a  singing  mood,  for  when 
next  he  started  playing,  and  it  was  "Old  Kentucky 
Home,"  all  of  the  fellows  began  to  sing.  Say,  if  you 
want  to  hear  something  fine,  just  listen  to  a  bunch  of 
boys  singing  on  a  clear  night  in  a  woods  somewhere. 
And  our  boys  know  how  to  sing,  thanks  to  the  teaching 
of  Lew  Hunter  himself.  He  has  them  all  separated 
into  sopranos,  altos,  tenors,  and  bass,  and  each  boy  knows 
what  part  Lew  wants  him  to  sing.  I  remember  when 
Lew  first  began  teaching  our  boys  singing  the  fellows 
didn't  know  what  soprano  or  alto  meant.  So  Lew  just 
called  the  sporano  singers  the  "first  part,"  and  the  alto 
singers  the  "second  part,"  and  the  others  didn't  come 
in  until  later.  Lew  Hunter  was  the  only  tenor  in  our 
crowd  till  Dick  Ferris  came  back  from  the  Pelham  side, 
and  then  Lew  took  him  for  a  partner.  And  this  night, 
as  we  sat  there  singing  "Old  Kentucky  Home,"  good 
old  Doc  Waters  joined  in,  and  Doc's  voice  is  as  low  as 
any  voice  can  be,  so  I  know  that's  bass.  So  you  can 
imagine  how  fine  it  sounded — singing  there  with  only 
the  moon  as  our  audience. 

When  the  singing  ended  I  thought  I  heard  a  sound 
in  the  gloom  behind  the  bushes  that  grow  in  thickness 
around  our  camp.  I  didn't  say  anything  about  it,  not 
even  to  Harold,  but  when  I  noticed  Harold  look  around 
after  the  next  song  ended  I  began  to  suspect  that  some- 
body was  hiding  there.  However,  when  Doc  called 
"Bed  Time,"  we  all  turned  into  the  tent  and  took  our 
cots  without  a  word,  and  as  one  of  our  camp  rules  is 
"no  speaking"  after  the  lights  are  out,  it  was  not  long 
before  all  of  us  were  sound  asleep. 

You  wonder  why  I  tell  you  so  much  about  our  sing- 
ing? Well,  it  may  be  because  I  am  fond  of  it  myself. 
It  seems  to  do  me  a  lot  of  good  to  hear  good  singing.  It 

56 


WAY  POWN  Upon  THE 

5WAMEE 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

seems  to  stir  up  the  good  that  is  in  a  fellow  but  seldom 
is  known;  it  seems  to  wake  up  a  feeling  of  kindness  and 
tenderness;  it  makes  a  fellow's  thoughts  always  go  back 
to  home  and  those  he  loves  somehow;  it  makes  you  for- 
get bad  things  and  think  of  good  things.  God  knew, 
when  he  made  us,  just  what  singing  was  to  be  for.  You 
know  it  makes  you  think. 

But  that  isn't  why  I  am  writing  so  much  about  our 
singing.  No,  no,  if  that  was  all  there  was  to  it  I  would 
pass  over  it  and  go  ahead  with  my  story,  for  the  story 
is  what  you  want.  But  our  singing  had  a  lot  to  do  with 
our  story,  as  you  shall  see. 

The  next  morning  we  were  up  with  the  birds,  as 
usual.  We  had  a  swim  while  Roy  and  Doc  prepared 
breakfast,  and  after  breakfast  we  held  a  little  meeting, 
in  which  I  told  the  boys  once  more  how  important  it 
was  to  stick  close  to  the  camp  and  not  stray  away  from 
it  at  all.  Then  the  usual  ball  game  began  in  the  clear- 
ing, and  Harold  stayed  in  the  tent  to  talk  to  me. 

"You  heard  it  last  night,  Hawkins?"  he  said.  "I 
saw  you  look  into  the  shadows  once." 

"Yes,"  I  said.     "Spies  from  the  Pelham  camp." 

"Exactly,"  said  Harold.  "We  are  being  watched. 
I  don't  suppose  we  ought  to  sit  here  like  dummies  and 
wait  for  something  to  happen." 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  guess  we  should  go  hunting  for 
trouble  before  it  comes." 

"You've  got  me  wrong,"  said  Harold.  "I  don't 
propose  to  be  caught  unaware,  that's  all.  I  think  we 
should  do  as  much  spy  work  as  the  Pelhams.  It's  great 
sport,  in  a  way,  and  you  say  you  are  looking  for  sport. 
What  do  you  say  to  a  tramp  up  the  island  and  wait  there 
until  the  Pelhams  clear  out,  then  we  can  inspect  their 
camp  and  see  what  Harkinson  is  up  to?" 

58 


SINGING    BY    THE    CAMPFIRE 

"Don't  mention  that  fellow's  name  to  me,"  I  said; 
"he  gets  on  my  nerves.  But  I  guess  you  are  right. 
Don't  you  think,  though,  we  should  take  a  few  others 
along?  It's  sort  o'  scarey,  just  we  two,  against  a  gang 
like  that." 

"It  would  not  be  bad,"  said  Harold,  "to  take  one 
or  two  others  into  our  confidence.  We  might  need 
them.  Whom  do  you  suggest?" 

"Link,  for  one,"  I  answered.  "The  Skinny  Guy  is 
getting  back  into  shape  again  since  his  return  from 
Cuba.  You  know  what  a  good  spy  Link  is,  and  then 
there  is  that  new  fellow  I  introduced  you  to — Will 
Standish.  He's  a  valuable  help,  I  can  tell  you.  I  found 
that  out  many  times  in  Cuba. 

"I  liked  his  looks  the  minute  I  met  him,"  said  Harold; 
"all  right,  we  four  will  do.  Then  I  would  suggest  that 
you  appoint  two  or  three  boys  to  sentry  duty  here  at 
the  camp.  Somebody  should  be  on  the  lookout  all  the 
time.  One  should  be  on  watch  on  the  river  bank  and 
another  back  in  the  woods  there." 

"All  right,"  I  said,  "let  your  brother  Oliver  have  the 
river.  I'll  get  Bill  Darby  to  watch  the  rear  of  the 
camp.  What  else?" 

Harold  had  nothing  more  to  suggest.  We  imme- 
diately called  Link  and  Will  Standish  and  told  them 
they  were  going  with  us.  Then  we  gave  Oliver  and  Bill 
Darby  instructions  as  to  what  we  wanted  them  to  do 
while  we  were  away,  which  they  were  only  too  glad  to  do. 

We  struck  out,  the  four  of  us,  through  the  island 
in  the  direction  of  the  Pelham  camp.  The  wood- 
chopping  had  stopped,  and  I  imagined  that  the  Pel- 
hams  had  now  enough  logs  to  build  their  stockade. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  place  we  were  surprised  at 
the  great  number  of  trees  the  Pelhams  had  cut  down. 

59 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

But  the  stockade  was  no  further  completed  than  when 
we  saw  it  last.  Not  a  single  Pelham  was  in  sight.  I 
imagined  that  they  had  given  up  their  idea  and  de- 
serted the  island.  We  felt  encouraged  by  the  lonesome- 
ness  of  the  place,  and  walked  boldly  up  to  the  pile  of 
logs  that  had  been  stored  in  front  of  the  half-built 
fortress. 

As  we  neared  it  a  sound  from  the  interior  caused 
us  to  stop  short.  The  next  instant  a  boy  stood  in  the 
doorway  of  the  half-finished  stockade.  I  knew  him  at 
once.  It  was  Ham  Gardner,  one  of  the  leading  Pel- 
hams.  I  expected  to  see  all  of  them  come  out  behind 
him,  thinking  that  they  had  seen  us  and  were  hiding. 
But  only  Ham  stepped  forth.  He  smiled  a  bit  at  me, 
and  I  heard  him  murmur  "Hawkins"  under  his  breath. 

"Hello,  Ham,"  I  said.    "Where's  the  gang?" 

"Don't  know,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "What  y' 
want  here?" 

"Just  want  to  pay  a  friendly  visit,"  I  said.  "What's 
the  Jog  house  for?" 

"Don't  know,"  he  said. 

"Did  Briggen  tell  you  to  say  that?"  I  said.  "I  sup- 
pose you  are  to  say  nothing  but  'don't  know.'  Am  I 
right?" 

Ham  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other  and  looked 
at  Will  Standish. 

"Say,"  he  said  at  length,  "you  fellows  must  get 
out  of  yere  right  away.  They'll  be  back  soon,  and  if 
they  see  me  I'll  catch  it  for  talking  to  you." 

"All  right,  Ham,"  I  said,  "you  know  me.  I  always 
helped  you  out  whenever  I  could." 

Ham  nodded.  "Yeah,  that's  all  right,  Hawkins," 
he  said.  "I  ain't  got  nothin*  agin  you  personal,  but  I 
got  to  follow  orders.  You'll  have  to  cl'ar  out." 

60 


SINGING    BY    THE    CAMPFIRE 

I  walked  closer  and  looked  into  Ham's  simple  face. 
"Listen,"  I  said:  "I  know  you're  under  orders,  and  I 
think  maybe  the  Pelhams  are  kind  o'  hard  on  you, 
Ham,  leaving  you  behind  when  they  go  on  their  ex- 
peditions. Where  are  they?  Spying  on  our  camp?" 

Ham  shook  his  head.  "No,"  he  said,  "shootin' 
ducks  for  dinner.  Lots  of  'em  on  the  other  side  o'  the 
island," 

"Tell  me  just  this,  Ham,"  I  said,  "and  I  won't  give 
you  away.  Why  didn't  Harkinson  attack  our  camp 
before  this?  Surely  you  know  the  plans.  He  was  sup- 
posed to  chase  us  off  as  soon  as  we  came.  We've  been 
here  three  days  now  and  we've  not  seen  sight  o'  him. 
Now,  why?" 

Ham  did  not  move.  Nor  did  he  open  his  mouth. 
Harold  had  gone  over  to  the  pile  of  logs  and  was  writing 
something  down  in  a  little  book.  When  Ham  would 
not  answer  my  questions  I  saw  that  we  could  get  no 
information  out  of  him,  so  I  walked  over  to  Harold. 
He  tore  the  page  out  of  the  book  on  which  he  had 
written,  and  asked  if  I  had  a  pin.  I  told  him  no,  but  I 
had  a  couple  of  tacks  in  my  coat  pocket.  "That  will 
do,"  he  said,  and  I  handed  him  two.  With  a  stone  he 
tacked  the  page  from  his  notebook  onto  the  log  so  that 
it  would  not  come  off.  Then,  before  I  knew  what  he 
intended  doing,  he  had  shoved  the  log  off  the  pile,  and 
it  went  tumbling  down  into  the  river.  For  a  moment 
it  danced  around  in  the  water,  and  then  started  floating 
with  the  current  down  toward  our  end  of  the  island. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Harold,"  I  exclaimed,  "matters 
are  bad  enough  without  giving  the  Pelhams  more 
reasons  to  come  after  us." 

Harold  smiled.  "We  can  use  the  logs,"  he  said, 
"and  it  will  keep  the  Pelhams  busy  chopping  others 

61 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

until  we  get  a  fence  built  around  our  camp.  Here  go 
the  rest.  I  wrote  a  note  on  the  first  one  to  Oliver. 
He  will  catch  them  as  they  pass  the  camp." 

Ham  Gardner  watched  us  sullenly.  He  said  not  a 
word  and  made  no  move  to  stop  the  log-rolling.  Will 
Standish  and  Link  helped  Harold  with  the  pile  until 
the  last  log  was  in  the  water  floating  toward  our  camp. 
Then  a  sound  came  to  our  ears.  How  I  remember  that 
sound,  and  how  it  startled  me  that  day!  It  was  the 
sound  of  a  horn,  a  horn  I  had  heard  many  times,  but 
not  since  the  days  of  Stoner's  boy.  Yes,  I  could  not 
be  mistaken.  It  was  Stoner's  horn.  And  the  minute 
I  heard  it  I  knew  that  it  was  Harkinson  who  blew  that 
blast  upon  it.  No  other  boy  around  here  could  make 
you  think  of  Stoner  as  Harkinson  could.  Now,  I  knew 
that  Harkinson  had  known  Stoner — he  had  been  one 
of  Stoner's  gang. 

Ham  Gardner  heard  it  as  quickly,  and  darted  a 
quick  glance  at  me  and  went  inside  the  log  house. 

We  did  not  stop  to  ponder  over  it  then  and  there. 
We  flew  as  fast  as  our  legs  could  carry  us  and  as  quickly 
as  we  could  dodge  through  that  thick  woods.  I  wondered 
after  we  had  run  quite  a  distance,  why  we  ran.  I  thought 
then  that  because  we  had  thrown  the  logs  into  the  river 
we  had  been  afraid  to  face  the  Pelhams  when  they 
would  discover  it.  But  that  wasn't  the  reason.  The 
reason  was  that  all  of  us  had  seen  Harkinson  once — 
and  once  seen  he  was  a  fellow  to  be  afraid  of  forever 
after.  Will  Standish  alone  acted  as  though  he  would 
wait  and  meet  his  former  foe  again,  but  when  we  three 
started  running  he  followed. 

But  we  had  been  tricked  somehow.  For  suddenly 
we  found  ourselves  facing  a  group  of  Pelhams,  headed 
by  the  ungainly  Harkinson.  He  carried  a  rifle  in  the 

62 


SINGING    BY    THE    CAMPFIRE 

hollow  of  his  arm,  and  Briggen,  the  Pelham  leader,  who 
walked  directly  behind  him,  had  a  few  wild  ducks  strung 
over  his  shoulder.  The  four  of  us  stopped  short.  Har- 
kinson's  gleaming  eyes  were  upon  us  and  he  had  an 
ugly  smile  upon  his  broad  face. 

"Sneaks,"  he  said  in  a  low,  harsh  voice;  "you're  a 
fine  bunch  of  sneaks.  I've  a  notion  to  punch  your  noses 
red  just  for  luck.  Don't  be  afraid.  I  won't  do  it.  I've 
got  other  ideas.  Look  up,  you  with  the  tow  head. 
You  thought  you  did  a  smart  trick  when  you  threw 
your  lasso  over  my  shoulders  and  hauled  me  out  of  my 
boat,  didn't  you?  Well,  we  will  even  up  that  score 
yet.  Look  at  me." 

I  saw  Will  Standish  grow  furiously  angry  at  these 
taunting  words,  and  his  fists  clenched.  I  expected  to 
see  him  step  up  and  strike  Harkinson  for  that  taunt. 
But  he  did  not  move.  And  then  I  did  not  wonder 
much  myself  at  it.  Somehow  or  other  I  did  not  feel 
able  to  move.  This  fellow  Harkinson's  eyes  held  me  as 
though  I  were  enchanted.  The  four  of  us  stood  there 
as  powerless  to  do  anything  as  if  we  had  been  made  of 
stone.  Fear,  you  call  it?  Well,  maybe  so.  I  don't 
know.  All  that  I  know  is  that  somehow  I  did  not  feel 
like  moving.  All  I  wanted  to  do  was  to  keep  my  eye 
on  this  fellow  Harkinson  and  watch  him  as  close  as  I 
would  a  snake  that  was  looking  hard  at  me  from  the 
grass. 

"I  saved  you  to-day,"  Harkinson  was  saying,  "and 
I  saved  you  the  day  before.  Your  camp  still  stands  on 
the  south  bank  because  I  let  it  stand.  But  you  better 
keep  on  singing  every  night  if  you  want  it  to  stay  stand- 
ing where  it  is.  Sing!  Yes,  you  heard  me.  It  was  only 
that  that  saved  you.  And  I'm  goin'  to  let  you  go  again 
to-day,  but  I'm  thinking  you'll  have  to  sing  harder 

63 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

than  ever  from  now  on  if  you  want  to  see  that  pretty 
white  tent  stay  in  that  pretty  spot  where  you  have 
pitched  it.  Now  go!" 

And  all  the  time  we  were  standing  there  as  though 
we  had  come  for  no  other  reason  than  to  hear  him  preach 
to  us.  His  eyes,  I  say,  were  on  us  like  cat's  eyes  from 
the  very  first  moment  we  met  him,  and  as  he  ordered 
us  to  go  he  followed  us  with  those  narrow  eyes  until 
we  had  passed  him.  The  Pelham  fellows  fell  back  and 
formed  a  passage  for  us  as  we  started,  and  not  a  sound 
came  from  their  lips.  Something  funny  had  come  over 
Pelham.  They  no  longer  jeered  us  when  they  had  us 
in  their  grip.  What  had  this  Harkinson  done  to  change 
them  so? 

We  arrived  at  the  camp  just  as  Doc  Waters  and 
Oliver  were  fastening  the  last  log  that  had  come  down. 
Oliver  had  caught  sight  of  the  first  one  with  the  note, 
and  had  followed  instructions.  Bill  Darby  reported  that 
he  had  seen  a  number  of  Pelham  flat  boats  and  skiffs 
pull  around  the  other  side  of  the  island.  Then  we  went 
inside  the  tent  and  talked  it  over. 

"That  fellow's  got  me  buffaloed,  Hawkins,"  said  Will 
Standish  to  me.  "I  never  could  whip  him  if  I  had  to 
meet  him  face  to  face.  Did  you  notice  his  eyes?" 

"I  felt  the  same  way,"  said  Harold  quietly.  "He 
seems  to  impress  me  as  being  of  great  strength  or  some- 
thing. I  knew  I  was  beaten  when  we  faced  him  in  the" 
woods  there." 

"Go  easy,"  I  said.  "Give  me  time  to  think.  But 
one  thing  is  certain,  boys:  We  must  sing  like  the  deuce 
to-night." 

Which  we  did. 


64 


VII 

Ham  Gardner's  Tip 

MUCH  to  my  surprise,  several  days  passed  with- 
out any  sign  that  Harkinson  and  the  Pelham 
boys  intended  to  drive  us  away  from  our  island 
camp.  To  be  sure  we  sang  every  night;  something  told 
me  that  the  singing  was  holding  them  back.  Harkinson 
had  some  soft  spot  in  his  hard  old  heart  for  good  singing. 
I  know  it  was  he  who  came  sneaking  down  to  our  camp 
every  night  and  hid  in  the  bushes  beyond  while  we  sang 
to  the  tunes  Lew  Hunter  played  on  his  accordion. 
Of  course,  he  had  come  to  spy  upon  us,  but  with  his 
spying  he  never  made  an  attack.  It  was  the  singing, 
you  see.  It  sort  o'  held  him  back.  No  matter  how 
much  he  disliked  to  have  us  there,  he  did  not  bother 
us  as  long  as  he  heard  the  singing  in  our  camp  every 
night.  You  see,  it's  a  funny  world  we  live  in. 

But  I  knew  it  couldn't  last.  I  knew  something 
would  happen  soon  that  would  set  loose  all  of  Har- 
kinson's  meanness  and  upset  our  camp  like  a  cyclone. 
The  fact  that  we  had  thrown  all  of  the  logs  into  the 
river  and  used  them  for  our  own  camp  was  enough  to 
cause  them  to  seek  revenge  upon  us.  And  I  knew  it 
would  come.  Sooner  or  later  we  would  have  to  give 
them  a  receipt  for  those  logs. 

Harold  and  I  took  turn  about  with  Will  and  Link 
in  going  down  to  the  Pelham  camp  to  spy  around. 
But  all  that  we  could  learn  without  getting  close  enough 
to  be  seen  was  that  they  had  decided  to  finish  the  build- 
ing of  their  log  house  and  the  stockade  around  it.  Evi- 

5  65 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

dently  they  intended  to  make  a  safe  retreating  place 
for  themselves  before  they  began  their  attacks  upon  us. 
And  with  that  same  idea  in  mind  I  set  my  boys  tc  work 
with  the  logs  Harold  had  floated  down  from  the  Pelham 
camp,  and  a  hundred  yards  beyond  our  camp  we  had  a 
solid  stockade  fence  built  in  a  few  days'  time  that  would 
keep  us  as  safely  from  harm  as  would  the  Pelham's 
fortress.  Only  one  door  did  we  make  in  the  log  fence, 
and  there  we  had  a  sentry  on  duty  all  day  long.  At 
night  time  we  locked  it  inside  with  three  good-sized 
padlocks,  and  Jerry  Moore  had  charge  of  the  keys. 
The  log  fence  was  like  a  half-circle  extending  from  one 
side  of  the  island  across  to  the  water  line  on  the  other 
side.  The  only  way  that  they  could  enter  the  camp 
now  was  from  the  river,  and  Oliver  and  Bill  Darby 
took  turns  about  watching  it. 

Now,  it  was  about  the  fourth  night,  as  we  sat  outside 
the  tent  singing,  that  I  felt  Harold  touch  my  arm,  and 
I  followed  him  quietly  into  the  shadows  behind  the  camp- 
fire.  The  other  boys  did  not  notice  we  had  left. 

"He's  here  again,"  whispered  Harold  to  me.  "He  is 
watching  you  and  me  this  very  minute.  I'm  not  going 
to  stand  it  any  longer.  I'm  tired  of  being  watched  every 
night.  I'm  for  putting  a  stop  to  it." 

"How  did  he  get  in?"  I  asked.    "The  gate  is  locked." 

"Over  the  fence,"  whispered  Harold.  "Nothing  can 
stop  him.  He  climbs  like  a  cat." 

"Well,  what  will  you  do?    Fight  him?" 

Harold  hesitated  a  moment  and  looked  at  me  puzzled. 
The  next  minute  there  came  a  sound  like  the  hiss  of  a 
snake,  and  something  thin  and  round  shot  out  above  our 
heads  as  I  yelled,  "Look  out!  Duck  it!" 

Harold  ducked  just  in  time.  The  noise  of  my  yell- 
ing brought  the  singing  to  an  end,  and  the  other  boys 

66 


HAM    GARDNER'S    TIP 

came  running  up  to  us.  Harold  jumped  up  and  ran 
after  a  figure  darting  away  in  the  shadow  of  the  bushes. 
I  sped  after  him,  and  as  I  came  up  to  the  fence  I  saw 
him  standing  there  looking  up,  as  something  gray  and 
like  a  snake  went  wriggling  over  the  top  of  the  stockade. 

"What  was  it?"  I  asked. 

"A  rope,"  answered  Harold,  with  a  short  laugh. 
"He  tried  to  lasso  me,  I  think.  Must  have  taken  me 
for  Will  Standish.  I  guess  he  wants  to  pay  Link  back 
and  show  him  he  can  do  as  much  with  a  lasso  as  Will 
can." 

"Careful,  boys,"  broke  in  Doc  Waters,  as  he  ran  up 
at  the  head  of  the  other  boys,  "it's  too  dark  out  this 
way.  Better  come  back." 

But  Harold  was  scaling  the  stockade  even  as  quickly 
as  Harkinson  had  done  it,  and  before  Doc's  last  word 
was  said  Harold  had  jumped  over.  Doc  ordered  Jerry 
to  unlock  the  gate  at  once.  "The  boy's  foolish  to  go 
out  alone  in  the  dark,"  he  said. 

Jerry  quickly  opened  the  gate  and  we  ran  out,  follow- 
ing Doc  Waters.  It  is  dark  outside  the  stockade  fence, 
for,  although  a  moon  was  shining,  the  branches  of  the 
trees  grow  close  together,  shutting  out  the  moonlight. 
I  called  to  Harold  as  we  ran,  but  no  answer  came.  I 
began  to  grow  afraid  that  he  had  fallen  into  some  trick 
of  the  fellow  Harkinson's,  and  I  was  greatly  relieved 
when  we  came  up  to  him  where  he  stood  in  a  clear  part 
of  the  island. 

"He  beats  me,"  Harold  was  saying  as  we  came  up. 
"He's  gone.  Did  you  ever  know  a  fellow  to  get  away 
so  easily?  I  saw  him  just  a  minute  before  I  stopped 
here.  He  seemed  to  vanish  all  of  a  sudden." 

Doc  scolded  Harold  for  being  so  foolish  as  to  run 
after  Harkinson,  and  made  us  all  turn  about  quickly 

67 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

and  return  to  the  camp,  where  we  said  little  more,  but 
went  to  our  cots  in  the  tent  and  to  sleep. 

The  following  day  Doc  Waters  said  he  had  to  go 
to  town,  and  I  told  him  he  could  go  with  the  canoe  I 
intended  sending  to  town  for  groceries.  Doc  said  I  had 
better  send  two  boys  for  it,  so  I  told  Johnny  McLarren 
and  Perry  Stokes  to  go.  It  was  just  after  breakfast 
when  Doc  and  the  two  boys  started.  Doc  made  me 
promise  to  keep  the  boys  close  to  the  tent  and  to  see 
that  none  of  them  ran  any  risk  outside  the  stockade 
fence. 

So,  after  we  were  alone,  I  told  the  boys  that  if  they 
cared  to  play  ball  they  could  play  water  baseball  down 
in  the  little  pool  near  one  end  of  our  stockade  fence. 
It  was  really  a  great  game;  it  was  new  to  the  boys, 
and  after  they  got  started  they  said  they  liked  it  as 
well  as  baseball.  I  think  they  spent  the  whole  morn- 
ing in  the  water,  and  came  out  only  for  lunch  and  a 
rest,  after  which  they  went  back  for  another  game 
or  two. 

I  was  sitting  in  the  tent  writing  about  the  night 
before  when  in  came  Harold  and  the  Skinny  Guy. 
"Hawkins,"  said  Harold,  "I've  a  notion  to  go  and  find 
out  how  Harkinson  got  away  last  night.  It  was  too 
dark  last  night,  and  Doc  wouldn't  listen  to  reason. 
But  let's  go  now  and  have  a  look." 

I  slipped  old  Rufe  Rogers's  shotgun  under  my  arm 
as  I  went  with  Harold  and  Link.  Bill  Darby  was  on 
sentry  duty  at  the  gate,  and  I  told  him  to  watch  close, 
and  if  he  saw  us  come  running  to  hold  the  gate  wide 
open  for  us  and  slam  it  tight  as  soon  as  we  passed 
through,  which  he  promised  to  do. 

We  did  not  have  to  walk  far  to  reach  the  place  where 
Harold  lost  track  of  Harkinson  the  night  before.  And 

68 


HAM    GARDNER'S   TIP 

as  soon  as  we  reached  it  Link  told  us  how  Harkinson 
disappeared. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "I  see.  Look,  Hawkins.  It's  Stoner's 
old  disappearing  place.  Remember  it  now?" 

Remember  it  I  did.  The  old  rotten  tree  stump 
stood  before  us.  Even  as  I  looked  into  its  hollow  trunk 
I  thought  of  the  day  long  ago  when  I  heard  Stoner's 
running  footsteps  sounding  in  the  tunnel  underneath — 
and  the  time  Long  Tom  caught  Sanders,  a  little  kid 
who  belonged  to  Stoner's  gang  and  who  was  showing 
us  that  secret  entrance. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  remember  it,  Link.  I  was  afraid 
of  this.  I  had  a  notion  that  Harkinson  was  one  of 
Stoner's  fellows.  He  knows  all  of  his  master's  old  tricks 
and  hiding  places.  But  I  believe  he  is  ten  times  worse 
than  Stoner  ever  could  be.  We  will  have  to  be  mighty 
careful,  boys.  None  need  to  be  surprised  if  we  find  our- 
selves in  that  tunnel  some  day,  tied  hand  and  foot,  and 
aching  for  a  drink  of  water  or  a  bite  of  a  ham  sand- 
wich." 

Harold  stood  looking  into  the  old  hollow  tree  as 
though  it  fascinated  him. 

"Pretty  slick,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "I'll  give  him 
credit.  He  thought  we  would  have  forgotten  it  by  this 
time." 

"Look,"  said  Link,  "there  is  a  door — see,  a  trap- 
door down  in  the  bottom  of  this  hollow  tree.  They 
have  it  locked,  I  guess,  so  nobody  can  get  in  after  they 
go  down  there.  They  would  be  safe  from  anybody, 
once  they  get  inside." 

"Beat  it!"  whispered  Harold.  "Somebody  is  under 
that  trap  door." 

Sounds  of  a  bolt  being  shoved  in  a  rusty  latch  came 
from  beneath  the  door  in  the  hollow  stump.  Together 

69 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 


we  leaped  away  into  the  bushes  that  ringed  in  the  clear- 
ing. There  we  crouched  and  waited.  Soon  we  saw  the 
top  of  a  shaggy  head  pop  up  in  the  hollow  tree.  The 
next  minute  I  expected  to  see  Harkinson  come  out 
of  that  hole,  but  it  wasn't;  no,  it  was  Ham  Gardner,  of 
the  Pelhams.  He  stood  up  and  turned  around  to  the 
north  end,  where  the  Pelham  camp  was  located,  and 


*  IT  WAS  HAM 

<qftRPMEf?  OF 
THE  PtLHAMS? 


HAM    GARDNER'S    TIP 


shook  his  fist  in  that  direction  as  he  muttered  some- 
thing we  could  not  catch.  Then,  drawing  up  after  him 
a  long  stick,  he  sat  himself  down  beside  the  tree  stump 
and  pulled  out  a  handkerchief  from  his  pocket.  That  is, 
at  one  time  it  had  been  a  handkerchief,  but  now  it  was 
but  a  torn  and  dirty  rag.  Still  it  looked  nearly  white. 
We  watched  him  silently.  He  sat  there,  not  knowing 
that  he  was  being  watched,  and  took  his  time  in  fasten- 
ing the  handkerchief  like  a  flag  to  one  end  of  his  stick. 
Then,  shaking  his  fist  again  in  the  Pelham  direction,  he 
started  for  our  stockade,  holding  high  the  stick,  on  which 
fluttered  the  bit  of  white. 

"As  I  live,"  said  Harold,  with  a  chuckle,  "I  believe 
he  is  going  to  our  camp.  He  expects  us  to  take  that 
dirty  rag  of  his  to  be  a  flag  of  truce.  What's  he  up  to?" 

"Come  on,"  I  said.  I  was  not  afraid  of  Ham  Gardner 
at  any  time.  And  I  surely  was  not  afraid  of  him  now 
when  he  carried  a  white  flag  and  I  carried  a  shotgun. 
So  we  shot  out  after  him.  He  heard  us  coming  and 

71 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

dropped  upon  his  knees  and  started  for  the  bushes. 
But  when  he  saw  who  we  were  be  scrambled  to  his  feet 
and  hurried  back  to  us. 

"Hawkins,"  he  cried,  "I  was  just  goin'  to  your 
place.  I  ain't  comin'  for  fight,  you  see.  Here's  my 
white  flag,  which  means  I  come  peaceful." 

"Yeah,"  I  said.    "What's  your  game,  Ham?" 

"I'm  gonna  git  out  of  that,"  he  said,  with  a  nod 
toward  the  Pelham  camp.  "That  new  guy  is  a  regular 
devil  to  me.  I  can't  stand  him  no  longer.  Look." 

He  pulled  up  the  back  of  his  ragged  blue  shirt. 
Across  his  back  were  a  dozen  red  stripes. 

"Good  Lord,  Ham,"  I  said.  "You  don't  mean  to 
say—" 

"He  done  it,"  said  Ham  in  a  low  voice.  "He  beat 
me  with  a  strap  because  I  let  you  boys  throw  all  them 
logs  of  his  into  the  river." 

"Ah,"  said  Harold.  "I'm  sorry,  Ham;  really  I'm 
sorry  you  had  to  stand  that  punishment  for  something 
I  did.  It's  too  bad." 

"Yeah,"  said  Ham,  "it's  too  late,  too.  Listen:  If 
you  don't  want  the  same  thing  to  happen  to  some  o' 
your'n,  you'd  better  act  quick.  Him  and  the  others 
are  on  their  way  up  the  river  now.  Briggen  spied  your 
two  boys  goin'  up  this  morning  with  the  old  doc.  They're 
waitin'  for  those  two  boys  to  come  back  by  themselves. 
Harkinson  is  goin'  to  make  them  two  kids  pay  for 
what  you  done  to  his  log  pile." 

"The  scoundrel!"  said  Harold,  and  he  was  off  like 
a  shot  toward  our  camp. 

"Ham,"  I  said,  "it's  good  of  you  to  tell  us,  believe 
me.  I'll  pay  you  back  nicely  when  you  want  me  to. 
You'd  better  get  back  to  your  post  now  quick.  If  you 
want  me  any  time,  come  over  to  the  tent  with  your 

72 


HAM    GARDNER'S    TIP 

white  flag  up.     I'll  know  it's  you.    I'll  have  to  hurry 
along  now." 

Ham  did  not  even  smile  as  he  hustled  back  to  the 
tree  stump,  and  Link  and  I  flew  after  Harold.  It  did 
not  take  long  to  get  the  boys  together  and  tell  them 
that  Johnny  McLarren  and  Perry  Stokes  were  being 
laid  for  by  Harkinson  and  his  gang  of  Pelhams.  And 
it  would  have  done  you  good  to  see  how  quickly  they 
took  to  their  canoes  and  the  whole  fleet  started  like  a 
shot  for  the  upper  turn. 

We  were  too  late! 

Just  as  we  turned  the  bend  we  caught  sight  of  our 
two  boys  in  the  canoe  coming  down,  both  of  them  pad- 
dling rapidly  with  a  loaded  canoe  between  them.  I 
urged  my  boys  to  paddle  faster,  and  they  tried,  against 
the  current,  but,  to  our  dismay,  we  saw,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  above  us,  the  skiffs  and  flatboats  of  our  Pelham 
foes  leaving  the  bank  and  making  swiftly  for  the  lone 
canoe  that  was  coming  down  stream.  "Hurry!"  I  cried 
to  those  paddling  near  me,  and  you  should  have  seen 
them  strain  their  arms! 

But  the  Pelham  gang  had  neared  their  quarry.  I 
saw  Perry  Stokes  rise  up  and  swing  his  paddle  over 
his  head.  Then  there  came  a  shouting  from  the  Pel- 
hams  as  they  closed  around  the  helpless  two  in  the 
loaded  canoe.  A  skiff  went  over  in  the  scuffle  that 
followed.  I  saw  two  Pelhams  hanging  to  the  gunwales 
of  the  canoe;  then  it,  too,  went  over,  and  the  shouting 
and  noise  was  enough  to  drive  one  deaf. 

But  then  we  arrived  on  the  scene — late,  but  better 
than  never.  Jerry  Moore  started  our  battle  cry  as  we 
drove  into  those  Pelham  boats.  Each  of  our  canoes 
picked  a  Pelham  boat  to  grapple  with,  while  I  steered 

73 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

straight  over  to  where  Perry  Stokes  was  hanging  onto 
a  Pelham  skiff,  his  lips  pressed  and  his  eyes  closed, 
hanging  like  a  bulldog,  although  a  Pelham  oar  was 
battering  his  fingers  to  loosen  his  grip.  I  caught  the 
skiff  in  the  oarlock  with  my  paddle.  With  one  great 
effort  I  bore  down.  She  answered  like  a  sail  to  a  wind. 
Just  as  Perry  went  down  his  end  came  over,  the  Pelham 
who  sat  in  the  stern  toppled  backward  into  the  water, 
and  the  one  who  had  been  standing  up  lunged  against 
my  canoe  as  his  boat  capsized,  and  I  yelled  to  Link  to 
steady  her — good  old  Link  never  misses — he  didn't 
miss  then.  Our  canoe  sat  upright,  although  she  danced 
and  careened  around  like  a  one-legged  duck,  and  I 
reached  out  my  paddle  for  Perry.  He  was  spitting  the 
foaming  water  from  his  lips  as  he  came  for  the  canoe. 
Link  and  I  straddled  the  gunwales  to  balance  her  while 
Perry  pulled  himself  into  the  canoe,  and  then  we  only, 
for  the  first  time,  had  a  look  around  to  see  how  the 
fight  was  going  elsewhere. 

It  was  going  good.  Three  Pelham  flatboats  already 
were  hurrying  away,  glad  to  make  their  escape.  Four 
of  them  floated  down  side  up,  while  a  number  of  Pel- 
hams  were  scattering  away  through  the  bushes  on  either 
bank.  But  coming  at  us  now  was  the  worst  of  the  lot — 
the  one  green  skiff  in  which  stood  the  leader  of  all  this 
mischief — Harkinson.  How  his  eyes  glared  at  us!  He 
seemed  to  be  coming  to  me. 

"How  did  you  know?'*  he  yelled  harshly.  "Who 
told  you?" 

I  tried  to  answer  him.  But  as  I  raised  my  head  and 
looked  into  his  face — oh,  boy,  those  eyes — they  held 
me  dumb.  I  could  not  speak.  His  skiff,  rowed  by 
Briggen  and  Dave  Burns,  sped  swiftly  past  us.  He 
swung  one  arm  and  caught  me  full  in  the  face  with 

74 


HAM    GARDNER'S    TIP 

his  broad  fist.  I  flopped  down  into  the  middle  of  the 
canoe  as  Perry  and  Link  rose  quickly  to  steady  her,  else 
we  would  have  all  been  in  the  river. 

"You  coward!"  I  yelled.  "Come  back — come  out 
on  the  bank  there;  fight  like  a  square  fighter,  and  I'll 
teach  you  something." 

Only  that  harsh  laugh  that  belonged  to  Harkinson 
came  back  to  answer  me. 


75 


VIII 

Hawkins  Against  Harkinson 

EVER  since  the  fight  on  the  river  I  had  an  idea 
that  I  should  like  to  get  close  enough  to  Har- 
kinson to  pay  him  back  that  one  nasty  crack 
he  gave  me  as  his  boat  shot  past  mine.     That  was  a 
cowardly  trick,  and  I  wanted  to  even  it  up. 

But  the  ending  of  that  water  fight  was  peculiar,  to 
say  the  least.  We  had  won;  yes,  in  the  matter  of  re- 
sult, we  had  won.  But  even  though  we  had  the  Pel- 
hams  fleeing  from  us  and  half  their  number  of  boats 
floating  upside  down  in  the  river,  Harkinson  went 
through  without  a  scratch.  He  was  not  even  touched. 
Those  Pelhams  who  rowed  his  green  skiff  knew  their 
work.  How  they  threaded  in  and  out  of  us!  Harkin- 
soon  stood  up  in  his  boat  and  directed  the  fight.  When- 
ever one  of  our  boys  turned  to  tackle  Harkinson  he 
found  it  almost  impossible  to  reach  the  unshapely  bully. 
That's  how  it  came  about  that  I  let  him  crack  me — I 
could  not  have  stopped  him  if  I  had  seen  his  purpose  at 
the  outset.  No,  Harkinson's  eyes  held  me  while  he 
sent  his  fist  out  to  meet  my  face.  It  was  his  eyes — 
something  like  a  snake's  eyes,  I  guess — that  held  me. 
"I'm  beginning  to  believe,"  said  Harold,  as  we 
gathered  around  our  campfire  that  night,  "that  Har- 
kinson can  hypnotize  a  fellow.  I  never  felt  so  strange 
in  my  life.  When  he  looks  straight  at  me  I  feel  as  though 
I  could  not  move  my  arm  or  utter  one  word  unless  he 
commanded  me  to." 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  Harold  had  spoken  exactly 
76 


HAWKINS    AGAINST    HARKINSON 

what  I  had  been  belie ving  ever  since  I  met  Harkinson. 
Whatever  it  was,  the  power  in  Harkinson's  eyes  was 
enough  to  make  a  fellow — well,  we  will  say  frightened 
— so  badly  frightened  that  he  is  almost  turned  to  stone. 
If  you  have  never  seen  a  fellow  like  Harkinson  you 
won't  understand.  It  was  his  looks  and  those  strange 
green-gray  eyes  set  in  deep  sockets  in  that  dark-skinned 
head.  That,  as  you  saw  him  standing  still.  But  when 
he  moved  toward  you — oh,  boy!  I  once  saw  a  chip- 
munk try  to  get  away  from  a  snake — yes,  it  was  just 
the  same  way:  The  snake  held  the  poor  thing  spell- 
bound until  it  struck  its  fang  behind  the  little  chipmunk's 
shoulder.  Harkinson's  long  arms  swung  as  he  approached 
and  they  seemed  long  enough  and  powerful  enough  to 
crush  the  life  out  of  a  fellow. 

Doc  Waters  had  to  stay  in  town  for  the  next  two 
days.  And  that  night  when  we  were  sitting  around 
the  fire  a  storm  came  up  and  it  began  to  rain.  And  how 
it  did  pour!  We  ran  inside  the  tent  and  went  to  bed  at 
once.  There  wasn't  anything  else  to  do.  Lew  Hunter 
tried  to  start  some  singing,  but  the  noise  of  the  storm 
drowned  out  his  music,  and  after  a  little  while  he  gave 
it  up  and  put  his  accordion  away.  I  was  very  glad  to 
find  that  our  tent  turned  aside  the  rain  like  a  duck's 
back;  but  for  a  few  dashes  of  wind-blown  spray  that 
came  through  the  ventilators  occasionally,  we  kept  dry 
and  warm.  If  you  ever  slept  in  a  tent  while  the  rain 
beats  down  upon  it,  you  know  how  cozy  it  is.  It  is  fine 
to  sleep  outdoors  during  a  rain  as  long  as  you  know 
you're  not  getting  wet. 

But  next  morning  the  sun  was  shining  bright,  and 
only  the  little  pools  of  water  in  hollow  places  of  the 
ground  and  here  and  there  a  fallen  limb  of  a  tree  were 
left  to  remind  us  of  the  storm.  The  ground  was  muddy 

77 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

on  the  river  bank,  and  all  of  us  boys  went  barefoot,  and 
after  breakfast  had  our  regular  swim  in  the  pool.  Then 
Roy  Dobel,  who  did  the  cooking,  told  us  we  had  better 
get  busy  and  catch  some  fish,  for  we  were  all  tired  of  the 
canned  stuff  we  had  been  eating.  So  out  came  our 
fishing  tackle,  and  the  boys  hunted  different  spots 
round  about  where  each  imagined  the  fish  would  bite 
best. 

I  stayed  hi  the  tent  to  write  about  last  night  and  the 
storm,  and  in  a  while  came  Perry  Stokes,  smiling  through 
the  flap  of  the  tent. 

"Writin*  again,  sir?"  he  called. 

"You  can  come  in,  but  that  'sir'  will  have  to  stay 
out,"  I  said,  smiling  back  at  him.  "Perry,  how  many 
times  have  I  told  you  to  drop  the  'sir'  business?  Now 
remember  what  I  tell  you." 

"Very  well,  sir — Hawkins,  I  mean,"  he  added 
hastily.  I  shook  my  head.  "Hopeless,"  I  said.  He 
came  hi  and  stood  beside  me. 

"That  was  a  nasty,  mean  chock  on  the  jaw  that 
Harkinson  gave  you  in  the  boat,"  he  said.  "It  wasn't 
manly  at  all,  sir." 

"No,"  I  agreed.  "But  what  of  it,  Perry?  What's 
there  to  do  about  it  now?" 

Perry's  eyes  sparkled  as  he  smilingly  answered: 
"He  is  to  be  paid  back  somehow.  It  wouldn't  be  well 
for  our  boys,  sir,  to  let  him  get  away  with  that.  It 
would  be  like  letting  him  call  us  cowards.  We  should 
show  him  his  mistake,  sir — Hawkins,  no  matter  what 
the  cost." 

I  looked  at  Perry  with  some  pride,  I  must  say,  when 
I  heard  him  talk  like  that. 

"That's  very  good  talk,  Perry,"  I  said,  "but  let 
matters  run.  Harkinson  is  running  down  a  long,  straight 

78 


HAWKINS   AGAINST   HARKINSON 

lane,  but  there's  no  lane  without  a  turning,  you  know. 
His  day  will  come.  When  it  does  I  will  take  care  to 
uphold  the  honor  of  our  boys,  even  if  I  have  to  stand  a 
dozen  more  cracks  like  the  one  he  gave  me  yesterday." 

Perry  seemed  to  be  satisfied  at  this.  But  as  he  was 
walking  out  he  turned  and  said:  "I'm  sorry,  Hawkins, 
that  it  was  you  who  had  to  stand  the  punch.  I  was 
right  beside  you.  But  the  bully  didn't  seem  to  see  me 
at  all." 

I  laughed.  "You  just  keep  out  of  the  way  of  his 
eyes,  Perry,"  I  said,  "and  you  won't  have  any  trouble. 
It's  his  eyes  that  do  it.  You'll  have  to  get  him  from  the 
rear  if  you  hope  to  have  success." 

Perry  bowed  and  left  the  tent.  I  finished  my  writ- 
ing and  afterward  got  out  my  box  of  fishing  tackle. 
The  boys  were  having  good  luck,  and  when  they  saw 
me  come  out  they  all  yelled  to  me,  each  one  claiming 
to  have  found  the  best  place  to  fish.  I  sat  myself  be- 
tween Will  Standish  and  Harold  Court,  and  threw  in 
my  line.  For  the  racket  they  made  you  would  not  be- 
lieve a  fish  would  have  stayed  within  ten  feet  of  where 
the  boys  sat,  but  I  must  say  it  was  a  surprise  to  me  to 
see  the  strings  of  fish  they  had  caught.  There  were 
some  nice  silver  perch  in  the  stream,  big  fellows  that 
showed  signs  of  living  well  around  the  island  shore. 
I  guess  the  worms  and  water  bugs  kept  them  well  sup- 
plied with  food. 

Now  it  was  strange  that  no  one  had  missed  Perry 
Stokes.  It  showed  me  plainly  that  the  other  boys  did 
not  think  much  of  Perry.  He  was  only  the  caretaker  and 
the  janitor  of  the  camp.  That  was  the  fact,  I  guess, 
that  made  the  boys  overlook  him.  But  after  I  had 
caught  a  few  fish  and  the  novelty  of  it  had  worn  off,  I 
took  a  look  around  and  counted  my  boys  that  were 

79 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

fishing  there  on  the  bank.  And,  allowing  for  Roy 
Doble,  who  was  making  a  fire  in  the  stove  by  the  tent, 
they  were  all  there  but  Perry.  My  heart  gave  a  leap 
as  I  remembered  the  kid's  words  about  paying  back 
the  cowardly  blow  Harkinson  had  given  me.  I  jumped 
up  at  once  and  put  my  line  up.  Harold  asked  me 
what  was  up. 

"I'm  going  up  to  the  Pelham  camp,"  I  said  in  a  low 
tone,  "and  I'm  going  alone." 

Harold  begged  to  go  along,  but  I  gave  him  his  orders 
to  stay.  Will  Standish,  too,  asked  me  to  let  him  go 
with  me,  but  I  shook  my  head.  "Call  Lew  Hunter," 
I  said.  Will  ran  over  to  Lew  and  soon  we  four  stood 
together. 

"Lew,"  I  said,  "get  the  boys  together  in  about 
fifteen  minutes  and  get  out  your  old  accordion  and  tell 
them  you  intend  to  have  singing  practice.  I  want  you 
boys  to  keep  on  singing  till  I  get  back  here.  Sing  every 
song  you  know.  Now,  mind  what  I  tell  you.  Start 
the  singing  in  about  fifteen  minutes,  Lew." 

"I  will,  Hawkins,"  he  said.  "I  think  I  understand 
what  you  want.  Harmony." 

"That's  it,"  I  said,  "and  you  fellows  will  help  me 
more  by  staying  here  and  singing  than  you  could  pos- 
sibly do  if  you  were  with  me." 

I  felt  angry  with  Perry  Stokes  as  I  rushed  through 
the  door  of  our  stockade  with  my  shotgun  in  my  arm. 
The  rain  from  the  night  before  had  made  the  ground 
muddy,  and  there  was  no  path  through  this  tangle  of 
wild  wood.  I  could  have  taken  the  clearing  where  I 
could  have  run,  but  then  I  would  be  in  plain  view,  and 
I  wanted  to  steal  up  to  that  Pelham  stronghold  with- 
out being  seen.  I  guess  I  made  it  in  about  twelve 
minutes.  I  stood  looking  at  the  Pelham  stockade, 

80 


HAWKINS    AGAINST    HARKINSON 

over  the  top  of  which  I  could  see  the  top  of  the  log- 
house.  Not  a  sound  came  from  the  place.  Not  a  figure 
was  to  be  seen.  It  made  me  bold  to  see  the  place  so 
deserted,  and  I  began  to  believe  that  Perry  had  not 
come  here.  Perhaps  he  had  followed  the  Pelhams 
when  they  left.  By  this  time  they  might  have  left  the 
island  on  one  of  their  hunting  expeditions.  Just  as  I 
was  about  to  give  up  and  go  back  to  our  camp  I  heard 
the  yell  of  a  boy.  It  came  from  inside  the  stockade. 
That  was  the  only  sound.  A  yell  as  if  some  kid  was 
getting  a  beating.  And  then  it  came  again — and  I 
leaped  clear  over  the  bushes  and  ran  to  the  fence  of 
logs.  The  gate  was  fastened  with  a  chain  and  passed 
through  to  the  inside,  where  it  was  held,  so  that  nobody 
could  open  it  but  from  within.  The  yell  came  again. 
This  time  like  a  scream,  and  I  began  to  pound  on  the 
gate  with  the  butt  end  of  my  gun. 

"Open  this  gate,"  I  yelled,  "or  I'll  knock  it  down!" 

I  was  surprised  to  find  the  gate  open  so  quickly. 
Harkinson  stood  there,  holding  a  strap  in  his  hand, 
smiling  ugly. 

"Come  in,"  he  said. 

I  did  not  answer.  Neither  did  I  look  into  his  face. 
I  decided  to  keep  away  from  the  hypnotizing  look  of 
those  eyes.  Instead  I  looked  at  a  sight  that  made  me 
mad  through  and  through.  It  was  poor  Ham  Gardner 
tied  to  a  post,  his  back  bare  and  covered  with  stripes. 
I  rushed  inside  and  over  to  the  post  where  Ham  Gardner 
was  tied.  The  first  thing  I  saw  was  Ham's  hunting 
knife  still  in  his  belt.  I  grabbed  it  and  slashed  the  rope 
that  held  his  wrists  to  the  stake.  Then  I  turned  fiercely 
upon  Harkinson,  who  was  standing  with  his  arms 
folded,  watching  me  with  an  evil  grin. 

"You  coward,"  I  said.    "I'm  going  to  tell  you  right 

6  81 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 


now  that  you've  got  to  stop  treating  these  boys  in  this 
manner.  The  sheriff  will  tell  you  where  to  get  off.  I 
don't  care  if  it's  a  Pelham  or  anybody  else.  What  right 
have  you  to  thrash  him  like  this?" 

"I  won't  ask  you  or  the  sheriff  what  I  ought  to  do," 
said  Harkinson,  coming  close  to  me.  "You  know  you 
can't  do  anything  without  law.  And  if  you  break  a  law 
you  get  punished.  This  fellow  knew  what  would  be 
coming  to  him,  and  he  went  and  broke  one  of  our  laws 
anyhow." 

"What  did  he  do?"  I  asked. 

"He's  hid  one  of  your  own  guys,"  replied  Harkinson 
in  a  savage  tone.  "One  of  your  spies  that  came  over 
here,  and  would  have  got  what  he  deserved  if  this 
double-crosser  hadn't  put  him  somewhere.  So  he  has 
to  take  the  medicine  your  fellow  was  to  get." 

82 


HAWKINS   AGAINST   HARKINSON 


"Listen,"  I  said  to  Harkinson,  keeping  my  eyes 
lowered  to  his  shoulders:  "You're  not  going  to  beat 
any  of  my  boys  like  this,  and  you're  not  going  to  beat 
any  Pelhams,  either." 


To  LOOK,  Ant?  t>Aw  HIM 
STILL  t>TAW7iW5  ON  THE; 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Oh!  Is  that  so?"  exclaimed  Harkinson.  Before 
I  could  get  my  gun  up  his  long,  wiry  arms  were  around 
me.  I  dropped  the  gun  and  grappled  with  him.  I  began 
to  feel  as  though  he  were  choking  the  breath  out  of  my 
body.  He  was  just  a  head  taller  than  I  was,  and  my 
head  was  being  pressed  close  to  his  chest.  I  struggled 
in  that  grip  of  iron,  and  then  a  happy  thought  came  to 
me.  I  raised  my  head  up  sharply  and  with  all  the  force 
I  could.  I  heard  the  click  of  his  teeth  as  my  skull 
crashed  up  against  his  chin  and  he  had  to  loose  his  grip 
of  me  to  catch  his  balance  as  he  shot  backward.  But 
before  I  could  make  the  few  steps  that  separated  me 
from  the  gun,  he  was  upon  me  again  like  a  tiger.  I 
squared  off  and  drew  back  my  right  and  let  him  have  it 
with  all  the  strength  I  could  straight  from  the  shoulder. 
It  caught  him  square  on  the  jaw  and  he  bellowed  loudly 
as  he  reeled  back,  his  long  arms  working  like  windmills. 
However,  it  made  him  only  more  angry,  and  I  knew 
then  that  that  was  all  I  had  and  Harkinson  would  get 
the  best  of  me  now.  I  tried  to  hold  him  off  at  elbow 
length,  but  he  crushed  with  those  powerful  arms  like  a 
bear.  Down  he  bore  me,  while  his  one  fist  sent  painful 
blows  to  my  head.  My  back  felt  as  though  it  was 
about  to  crack,  but  still  I  struggled  with  the  heavy  odds 
against  me. 

Then,  as  though  some  voice  had  called  to  him  to 
stop,  Harkinson  suddenly  let  go  of  me  and  turned  away. 
I  fell  in  a  heap  upon  the  ground,  exhausted  and  bruised. 
Ham  Gardner  ran  to  me  and  helped  me  to  my  feet. 
"Beat  it,"  he  whispered.  "You  can't  match  him." 

And  I  hurried  to  follow  Ham's  advice.  I  reached 
my  gun  and  started  for  the  gate.  As  I  did  so  I  saw 
Harkinson  standing  on  the  top  of  the  stockade  listening 
with  his  hand  to  his  ear.  I  stood  still  and  listened. 

84 


HAWKINS    AGAINST    HARKINSON 

Ah!  Strains  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home"  faintly  drifting 
on  the  breeze  from  our  camp.  That's  what  it  was  that 
stopped  the  ugly  bully,  and  there  was  a  smile  upon  his 
unshapely  features  as  he  stood  listening  to  the  singing. 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  I  was  near.  I  slipped 
through  the  gate  unnoticed.  He  did  not  even  glance 
down,  and  after  I  had  gone  a  distance  in  the  tangle- 
wood  I  turned  to  look  and  saw  him  still  standing  on  the 
stockade  like  a  statue,  listening  to  the  harmony  that 
came  riding  on  the  breeze  from  our  camp. 

Perry  was  in  camp  when  I  returned.  "How,"  I 
asked,  "did  you  get  out?  Ham  Gardner  said  he  helped 
you  hide.  How  comes  it  that  you  beat  me  home?" 

"Ham  showed  me  the  trap  door  in  the  log  house, 
sir,"  answered  Perry,  "and  I  was  quick  to  enter  it  and 
run  through  the  tunnel.  It  takes  you  to  the  old  hollow 
tree  stump,  sir,  where  I  made  my  escape  and  hurried 
back  here." 


IX 

Hawkins  Dons  the  Gloves 

IT  WOULDN'T  be  a  bad  idea,  Hawkins,"  said 
Will   Standish,    "to   try   your   hand   at   boxing. 
You  don't  know  how  easy  it  is  to  handle  a  big 
fellow  like  Harkinson  if  you  know  how  to  use  your 
punches   and   keep   away  from   his  reach.     Why   not 
take  a  few  lessons?    You'll  be  able  to  take  care  of  your- 
self it  you  should  ever  meet  him  alone  some  time.    And 
you  never  can  tell." 

This  suited  me  to  a  tee,  and  I  told  Will  so.  I  had 
been  watching  him  and  Harold  boxing  that  morning, 
and  I  was  surprised  at  both  of  them.  I  wished  that  I 
could  box  hah*  as  good  as  they  did.  And  now,  when 
I  had  the  chance  to  learn  some  of  their  tricks  with  the 
gloves,  I  took  them  up. 

They  both  were  smiling  as  Will  put  on  his  gloves 
and  Harold  helped  me  on  with  mine.  "You'll  like  it, 
Hawkins,"  said  Harold;  "it's  great  sport.  Just  wait 
and  see." 

I  saw  soon  enough.  Will  danced  around  me  so  fast 
that  I  never  could  get  at  him,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  touched  me  on  the  cheek  or  on  the  chest  whenever 
he  pleased,  and  soon  had  me  panting  for  breath.  Then 
his  "touches"  grew  stronger  and  began  to  sting.  They 
got  me  sore  at  length,  because  I  could  not  give  him  any 
in  return.  Whenever  I  sent  my  fist  to  his  face  his  face 
would  not  be  there,  but  at  the  same  time  I  would  get 
a  neat  tap  on  my  chin  or  nose  that  was  enough  to  make 
any  fellow  sore. 

86 


HAWKINS    DONS    THE    GLOVES 

"For  the  love  of  Mike,  stand  still  a  minute,"  I 
yelled.  "How  do  you  expect  me  to  hit  you  when  you 
dodge  around  like  that?" 

Will  and  Harold  both  laughed.  "Do  the  same," 
said  Will,  "and  you  won't  be  easy  for  me  to  reach." 

Well,  I  tried  ducking  and  dancing,  but  Will's  slim 
body  ran  rings  around  me,  and  if  he  wanted  to  he  could 
have  knocked  me  over  in  a  corner  as  often  as  he  pleased. 

I  finally  threw  off  the  gloves  and  said  I  was  through. 
But  once  you  get  started  you  like  the  sport.  In  the 
afternoon  we  put  on  the  gloves  again,  but  it  was  just 
the  same.  I  stood  another  good  punching,  and  Will 
and  Harold  laughed,  but  said  I  was  getting  on.  Harold 
wanted  me  to  try  him  for  a  few  rounds,  but  I  told  them 
that  I  had  better  get  back  to  the  tent,  where  I  had 
to  do  some  writing,  and  that  later  in  the  day  I  would 
tackle  him,  and  that  I  had  learned  a  few  points  and  was 
sure  I  could  knock  him  from  here  to  the  river  in  the 
first  round. 

But  Harold  was  the  same  as  Will.  Those  kids 
knew  how.  I  never  could  get  any  nearer  Harold  than 
I  could  to  Will,  and  once  when  I  thought  I  saw  an  easy 
chance  to  sail  my  right  glove  into  his  nose,  he  pretended 
to  come  at  me  with  his  left  and  dodged  his  head  over 
to  the  right  and  came  up  under  my  left  arm  with  such  a 
sound  right  wallop  that  I  went  spinning  across  the  grass 
and  landed  on  my  back." 

"Listen,"  I  said:  "This  is  only  in  fun;  you  don't 
have  to  sock  me  so  hard,  you  rummy." 

I  wouldn't  put  on  the  gloves  any  more  that  day, 
but  Will  and  Harold  did  fool  a  couple  of  the  other  boys 
into  going  a  few  rounds  with  them.  It  all  ended  the 
same  way  as  my  own  practice.  But  I  began  to  study 
their  tricks  now.  I  took  in  everything,  and  it  made  me 

87 


THE    RED    RU_NNERS 

decide  that  I  must  be  more  careful  in  future  practice. 
I  saw  how  simple  some  of  those  tricks  were  when  you 
know  how.  I  made  up  ray  mind  that  I  could  see  what 
kind  of  blows  they  intended  to  strike,  and  that  if  I 
could  meet  them  and  turn  them  aside  I  would  not  get 
such  a  bad  mauling,  even  if  I  did  not  give  much 
punishment. 

Harold  and  I  put  on  the  gloves  the  next  morning. 
He  sailed  into  me  with  the  same  confidence,  but  he  found 
that  I  had  got  wise  to  some  of  his  stunts.  I  blocked  his 
blows  as  they  came.  Then  when  he  did  hit  me  on  the 
head  so  that  I  saw  stars  I  laughed  at  it  instead  of  get- 
ting angry.  I  wasn't  going  to  lose  my  temper  and  my 
head.  So  when  I  stood  him  off  that  way  about  two 
rounds,  Harold  decided  that  he  would  finish  me.  I  let 
him  come,  and  I  got  in  my  first  blow  that  made  him  sit 
down  quite  suddenly  and  look  up  at  me  in  surprise. 
Then  he  turned  to  Will  and  said,  "Hawkins  is  getting 
on,  don't  you  think?" 

It  seemed  as  though  every  boy  in  the  camp  was 
anxious  to  learn,  and  from  that  time  on  there  was  always 
some  boxing  practice  going  on.  Doc  Waters  enjoyed 
this  very  much.  He  said  it  was  fine  exercise  for  us,  and 
it  would  do  us  good  to  learn  how  to  give  and  take. 
There  were  times  when  some  of  the  fellows  would  get 
sore  when  they  got  a  jab  or  a  hook,  or  whatever  they 
call  those  stinging  blows  that  come  like  a  surprise  party, 
but  we  soon  made  it  understood  that  anybody  that  lost 
his  temper  during  a  boxing  practice  would  not  be  al- 
lowed to  put  on  the  gloves  again.  So  that  in  a  short 
time  it  was  real  sport  and  enjoyed  by  the  whole  bunch. 

If  you  like  to  see  something  funny  you  should  see 
the  Skinny  Guy  boxing.  Oh  boy,  I  never  laughed  so 
much  in  my  life  as  I  did  the  first  time  Link  put  on  the 

88 


HAWKINS    DONS    THE    GLOVES 

gloves.  He  had  been  watching  us  for  a  long  time,  and 
he  seemed  to  think  the  only  thing  he  had  to  do  was  to 
keep  dancing  and  running  around  so  that  nobody  could 
reach  him.  He  made  a  game  of  tag  out  of  it.  His  raw- 
boned,  skinny  figure,  his  long  legs,  and  always  that 
wide  grin  on  his  thin  face  made  him  look  the  funniest 
fighter  I  ever  saw.  But  the  Skinny  Guy  soon  learned 
how  to  send  in  his  blows,  and  though  the  long  arm  was 
not  strong  in  looks  it  carried  quite  a  strong  punch,  as  I 
often  found  out  when  I  tried  my  hand  at  him. 

We  were  surprised  just  after  breakfast  to  hear  some- 
one calling  outside  of  our  stockade  fence.  We  hurried 
out  of  the  tent  and  I  saw  a  white  flag  waving  just  over 
the  top  of  the  barricade. 

"Hawkins!"  came  the  call,  "Hawkins!" 

I  recognized  Ham  Gardner's  voice.  "Open  the  gate 
and  let  him  in,"  I  told  Bill  Darby.  The  gate  was 
opened  quickly  and  in  came  Ham  Gardner  with  his 
white  flag  of  truce.  But  he  was  not  alone.  With  him 
came  Briggen,  the  Pelham  leader,  and  Dave  Burns. 

"We  come  peaceful,"  hollered  Briggen,  seeing  some 
of  our  boys  approach  him  quickly.  "Hold  off  your 
fellas,  Hawkins,  we  come  peaceful." 

"Your  white  flag  tells  me  that,'*  I  said;  "you  are 
safe.  What  is  the  reason  of  your  honorable  visit  to  our 
despised  camp?" 

Briggen  frowned,  and  some  of  our  boys  laughed. 

"You  talk,  Ham,"  said  Briggen;  "you  tell  him." 

Now,  a  more  comical  sight  I  never  want  to  see  than 
those  three  Pelham  leaders  standing  there  in  a  group, 
Ham  holding  up  his  white  flag  as  though  he  were  afraid 
that  if  they  let  go  of  that  sign  of  truce  they  would  not 

89 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

be  safe  within  our  camp.  I  could  not  help  smiling  as 
Ham  began. 

"We  are  sick  and  tired  of  it,  Hawkins,"  he  said, 
"and  we  want  Harkinson  to  git  out." 

"You  mean  you  want  us  to  help  you  chase  him  out 
of  your  gang.  Isn't  that  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  Briggen,  quickly,  "that's  it,  Hawkins. 
You  guys  got  as  much  reason  as  we  have  to  git  rid  o' 
Harkinson.  He  hates  you  worse  'n  us.  He  is  bound  to 
git  some  of  you  if  you  don't  git  him  away  from  here." 

"We  think  we  can  take  care  of  ourselves,"  I  said, 
"and  we  are  not  afraid  of  Harkinson,  nor  of  you,  Briggen, 
or  any  of  your  fellows.  What's  the  trouble  between  you 
boys  and  Harkinson?" 

"He  gits  too  fresh  with  my  boys,"  said  Briggen. 
"He  thinks  he  can  whip  'em  all  whenever  he  pleases. 
He  ain't  touched  me  yet,  but  look  at  Ham  there.  Just 
look  at  his  back,  will  you?  It's  a  sight  from  the  lash- 
ings. And  Dave  here.  Dave's  got  a  couple  of  beat- 
ings, too,  just  because  he  didn't  jump  quick  enough 
when  Harkinson  ordered  him  to.  And  he  is  gittin' 
worse  and  worse.  Us  boys  want  to  be  let  alone.  We 
can  run  our  own  business  without  a  fella  like  Harkinson 
tellin'  us  how." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "you  boys  ought  to  be  able  tc  do  your 
own  bouncing.  Bounce  Harkinson  out.  How  many 
fellows  have  you,  Briggen?" 

"Fourteen." 

"That's  about  one  more  than  you  need  to  whip 
Harkinson,  don't  you  think?" 

"Plenty,  if  it  weren't  for  something  else.  He's 
queer.  He  ain't  like  other  kids.  We  could  lick  him 
if  he  was.  But  he's  odd." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Just  what  do  you  call  odd?" 
90 


HAWKINS    DONS    THE    GLOVES 

Briggen  stopped  at  my  question  and  gazed  around 
at  the  faces  of  my  boys  standing  behind  us.  Then  he 
said: 

"I  guess  you  guys  don't  believe  in  such  stuff,  but 
Harkinson's  got  a  gift.  He  hypnotizes  you  when  you 
look  at  him." 

"That's  right,"  said  Ham  Gardner,  in  a  nervous 
whisper;  "he  hypnotizes  me.  I  got  to  do  what  he  tells 
me.  I  ain't  able  to  say  no  to  him,  Hawkins.  Listen: 
You  been  good  to  me,  Hawkins.  I  ain't  never  had  nothin' 
agin  you.  You  will  help  us  chase  this  Harkinson  out, 
won't  you?" 

Now,  even  though  Ham  Gardner  is  a  Pelham  fellow, 
I  always  had  a  kind  of  a  pity  for  him  anyway,  because 
he  is  a  simple  sort  of  a  boy,  and  the  only  reason  he  has 
got  into  so  much  trouble  at  times  is  because  he  is  in  with 
the  Pelham  crowd  and  is  a  chum  of  Briggen's.  So  I 
told  him  we  would  help,  but  they  would  have  to  do  their 
own  part.  This  idea  of  Harkinson's  hypnotizing  eyes 
was  no  joke  as  far  as  I  knew,  because  I  always  felt  the 
same  way  about  him  whenever  I  was  under  his  strange 
eyes. 

So  the  Pelham  committee  went  back  with  their 
white  flag  and  some  instructions  that  I  had  given. 
That  night  was  the  time  we  decided  on.  They  were 
to  give  us  the  sign.  The  signal  was  to  be  a  rocket  taken 
from  the  left-over  odds  and  ends  of  our  Fourth  of  July 
celebration.  I  had  found  four  of  them  in  the  wooden 
camp  chest,  and  these  I  gave  to  Ham,  telling  him  the 
first  might  not  go  off,  and  he  better  take  several. 

We  ate  an  early  supper  and  then  talked  over  our 
plans,  after  which  we  sang  songs  in  front  of  the  tent 
till  it  got  dark.  All  of  us  boys  knew  what  was  to  be 
done,  and  each  knew  what  part  he  was  to  play.  Dark- 

91 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

ness  came  while  we  sang,  and  though  we  continued 
singing  to  throw  off  any  suspicion  Harkinson  might 
have  had,  we  watched  the  sky  over  the  other  end  of  the 
island  for  the  signal.  But  it  was  slow  coming.  We  had 
to  stop  our  singing,  because  we  had  sung  all  we  knew, 
and  we  were  beginning  to  think  that  Ham  Gardner's 
plans  had  been  discovered,  and  that  Harkinson  had  got 
wise.  But  then  came  the  long  snaky  flash  of  sparks  in 
the  sky  as  the  rocket  went  up.  In  a  minute  we  were  all 
headed  for  the  stockade. 

Ham  Gardner  and  Dave  Burns  were  there  to  meet 
us,  the  gate  open,  and  everything  as  quiet  as  could  be. 
"He's  asleep,"  whispered  Ham.  We  quietly  hurried 
into  the  log  house.  Harkinson  lay  upon  a  blanket. 
Quickly  we  pulled  forth  the  long  rope  we  had  brought. 
But  Harkinson  was  queer.  How  could  we  fool  him? 
Even  in  his  sleep  he  seemed  to  be  able  to  read  our 
minds.  With  a  roar  he  jumped  from  his  pallet  and 
leaped  upon  Bill  Darby,  who  was  just  passing  the  rope 
to  Harold  and  me. 

"What's  this?"  he  yelled.  "What  do  you  think 
you're  doing?" 

Nobody  attempted  to  answer  him.  Nobody  could. 
The  dim  light  from  the  oil  lamp  on  the  side  wall  threw 
a  hard  glitter  into  Harkinson's  eyes  as  he  gazed  at  us. 
His  hard  look  came  full  upon  me  and  his  mouth  twisted 
into  a  sneer  as  he  said : 

"Ah,  it's  you  again,  is  it?  Well,  now  I'll  teach  you 
a  lesson  that  will  last  you,  I  think." 

I  admit  I  was  trembling,  nervous,  and  I  tried  to 
think  quickly,  but  again  I  was  held  by  those  eyes  of 
his.  It  was  his  swift  movement  toward  me  that  al- 
lowed me  to  snatch  my  gaze  away  from  his  face,  and  I 
centered  my  eyes  upon  his  chin,  and  then  I  stepped 

92 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

back  and  pulled  one  of  the  tricks  that  Will's  boxing 
lessons  had  taught  me.  When  he  struck,  his  fist  passed 
my  head  just  by  a  fraction,  while  I,  still  holding  my 
gaze  upon  his  chin,  pretended  to  go  for  him  with  my 
left,  but  as  he  snarled  and  pulled  over  to  avoid  it  I 
sent  my  right  cracking  to  that  chin — oh,  boy,  how  my 
knuckles  hurt!  To  see  him  fall  was  my  great  surprise. 
I  never  believed  I  could  have  put  enough  strength  into 
a  blow  that  would  drop  a  big  husky  like  that.  But  Will 
Standish  was  upon  him  in  a  flash,  and  Ham  Gardner 
and  Briggen  and  Dave — in  fact,  all  the  Pelhams  were 
on  top  of  their  former  leader.  But  it  was  Will,  anyhow, 
who  turned  the  trick.  He  had  the  sense  to  use  his 
handkerchief  for  a  bandage  with  which  he  blindfolded 
Harkinson.  I  only  noticed  that  after  I  had  bound 
his  feet  with  the  rope  and  started  to  bind  his  wrists. 
"Good  boy,"  I  said  to  Will.  "Stand  back,  fellows;  no 
need  to  be  afraid  of  his  eyes  now." 

There  we  had  him  at  last,  standing  before  us,  bound 
hand  and  foot,  unable  to  move,  and  his  eyes  blind- 
folded. He  strained  some  at  his  ropes  first,  but  gave 
it  up,  although  he  rained  down  upon  us  all  the  harsh 
names  and  abuse  he  could  think  of.  The  boys  fell  back 
now,  while  I  sat  myself  down  on  one  of  the  Pelham's 
camp  stools,  and  Will  and  Jerry  Moore  stood  ready  on 
either  side  of  our  captive. 

"Harkinson,"  I  said,  "this  is  the  end  of  your  bully- 
ragging. There  is  only  one  thing  to  do  with  you,  and 
that  is  to  turn  you  over  to  the  she"riff  for  beating  up 
these  poor  kids.  What  do  you  say?" 

He  did  not  reply.  "Well,"  I  continued,  "you've 
got  one  chance  to  escape  the  sheriff:  If  you  promise 
to  stay  away — promise,  I  mean — and  never  bother  the 

94 


HAWKINS    DONS    THE    GLOVES 

Pelhams  or  us  again  we  will  let  you  go  back  to  your 
own  place  and  your  own  pals." 

The  Pelham  fellows  objected.  "Don't  trust  him," 
said  Briggen;  "he  ain't  no  good  to  his  word,  Hawkins. 
Let  the  sheriff  take  him  before  Judge  Granbery.  He 
ain't  had  no  right  to  whip  my  boys  like  he  did." 

But  I  did  not  want  that.  I  knew  that  every  time 
Judge  Granbery  heard  of  us  having  trouble  with  a 
stranger  we  always  got  the  blame  for  it,  anyway.  So  I 
said  again: 

"Harkinson  knows  we  will  not  allow  him  down  here 
again.  He  knows  that  we  are  able  to  catch  him  some- 
how, and  if  we  catch  him  once  more — " 

"I'll  go,"  said  Harkinson  in  a  thick,  coarse  voice. 
"I  ain't  no  fool.  I  make  a  bargain  and  keep  it.  You 
got  the  drop  on  me." 

So  after  we  got  Briggen  to  agree  that  it  was  best 
not  to  make  any  fuss  over  it,  we  let  Harkinson  go. 
That  is,  we  saw  to  it  that  he  went  back.  I  asked  Briggen 
if  he  knew  the  meeting  place  of  Harkinson's  pals,  and  he 
said  he  did.  It  was  up  in  Watertown,  in  the  shack  in 
the  alley  where  we  had  first  seen  Three-Finger  Fred. 
So  I  said  that  Briggen  and  some  of  his  fellows  would 
have  to  take  him  up  in  Harkinson's  green  skiff  and 
leave  him  bound  where  some  of  his  pals  would  find  him. 
For  I  would  not  risk  setting  Harkinson  free  to  go  back 
by  himself.  You  see,  we  would  have  had  to  remove  the 
blindfold  from  his  eyes,  .so  that  he  could  go,  and  if  he 
could  have  had  the  chance  to  turn  those  eyes  toward 
us  again  he  might  have  held  us  all  spellbound  while  he 
compelled  us  to  do  as  he  wished.  I  wasn't  taking  any 
chances  with  Harkinson. 


X 

The  End  of  Vacation 

MAYBE  we  should  not  have  given  Briggen  and 
his  Pelhams  the  job  of  taking  Harkinson  back 
to  Watertown.  I  think  that  is  where  we  made 
our  big  mistake.  But,  no  matter  now;  it's  done,  and 
there  is  no  use  of  crying  over  spilled  milk.  But  anyway, 
I  am  sure  that  Harkinson  started  to  talk  to  those  Pel- 
ham  fellows  while  they  were  rowing  him  back.  I  think 
he  talked  all  around  them,  and  I  believe  that  before 
they  reached  the  wharf  at  Watertown  he  had  induced 
them  to  be  partners  with  him  again.  I  say  I  think 
this  is  so.  I  don't  know  for  certain,  because  I  was  not 
with  them,  and  Briggen  did  not  come  back  to  tell  me 
how  everything  went. 

The  next  morning  we  saw  a  steamboat  coming  up 
the  river.  Doc  Waters,  who  had  come  down  to  our 
camp  before  we  had  breakfast,  asked  me  if  I  could  tell 
what  boat  she  was.  "The  Hudson  Lee,"  I  said.  "Hail 
her,  then,"  said  Doc.  "I  want  to  talk  to  Captain  Lee." 

We  hailed  the  boat  while  she  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
off.  She  sighted  us,  and  the  mate,  standing  on  the 
rail,  yelled  "All  right!"  through  a  megaphone.  We  saw 
the  boat  turn  slowly  out  of  the  channel  and  push  her 
nose  into  the  still  water  near  the  shore.  At  the  same 
time  a  gangplank  was  lowered.  Doc  ran  forward  to 
meet  the  captain,  who  is  a  fine  man  and  a  friend  of  his. 
While  they  were  talking  all  of  us  boys  gathered  around 
the  gangplank,  down  which  there  came  two  boys  about 
our  age  and  a  girl. 

96 


THE    END    OF    VACATION 

The  first  boy  I  recognized.  It  was  Hudson  Lee,  son 
of  the  captain  of  the  boat.  The  other  boy  was  a  smart- 
looking  chap,  but  I  had  never  before  seen  him.  The 
girl,  too,  I  knew.  It  was  Rosalind  Lee,  sister  of  Hudson. 
She  spied  out  the  Skinny  Guy  and  ran  forward. 

"Oh,  aren't  you  Link  Lambert?"  she  cried  taking 
his  hands  and  smiling  up  into  his  face.  "Yes,  I  know 
you  are.  You're  the  boy  who  fished  my  rag  doll  out  of 
the  river  when  I  was  a  very  little  girl." 

Link  blushed,  but  smiled  as  he  replied: 

"Yeah,  I  remember.  But  you're  not  such  a  big  girl 
now.  Seems  like  you  haven't  grown  much." 

"I  like  that,"  said  Rosalind,  pouting.  "I  am  ever 
so  much  bigger.  But  I  could  never  forget  you.  I  al- 
ways told  daddy  I  wanted  to  come  and  see  you 
again." 

The  other  boys  had  a  notion  that  Rosalind  did  not 
see  them  at  all;  indeed,  she  acted  as  if  there  was  no 
one  there  but  Link.  And  so,  grinning  and  whispering, 
they  all  moved  back  to  where  I  stood  with  Hudson 
Lee  and  his  companion. 

"You're  Seckatary  Hawkins,"  said  Hudson  Lee, 
shaking  my  hand.  "It's  been  some  time  since  we  met, 
but  I  suppose  you  can  remember  me." 

"I  do,"  I  said,  smiling.  "I've  always  had  a  wish 
to  see  you  again,  but  your  daddy's  boat  does  not  often 
stop  at  our  old  wharf  any  more." 

"No,"  laughed  Hudson,  "but  then  I  don't  ride  in  it 
often,  either.  He's  sent  me  away  to  school  the  last  two 
years.  I  seldom  get  this  far  up  the  river.  Come  up 
here,  Shadow.  I  want  you  to  meet  Seckatary  Hawkins." 

This  last  he  said  to  his  handsome  companion.  He 
stepped  up  and  shook  my  hand. 

"Shadow  Loomis,"  said  Hudson  Lee  with  a  smile, 

7  97 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"the  real,  genuine  Shadow  Loomis  you've  heard  so  much 
about." 

"Glad  to  know  you,  Seckatary  Hawkins,"  he  said, 
gripping  my  hand.  I  returned  the  compliment,  but  I 
felt  like  telling  Hudson  Lee  I  hadn't  heard  much  about 
Shadow  Loomis;  in  fact,  I  had  never  heard  of  him 
before  now. 

"Shadow  is  the  most  wonderful  magician  you  ever 
saw,"  said  Hudson  Lee.  "You  should  see  him  do  some 
of  his  tricks.  Pull  one  for  Hawkins  now,  Shadow." 

Shadow  stooped  suddenly  and  patted  my  pockets  as 
though  he  were  feeling  for  something.  It  amused  me. 

"You've  got  it  somewhere,"  he  said  to  me.  "See 
if  it's  in  that  pocket." 

"Where?"  I  put  my  hand  to  the  pocket  he  was 
pointing  at,  and  of  a  sudden  I  got  quite  a  shock.  I 
felt  something  moving — something  soft  and  warm, 
and  I  grasped  it  and  pulled  it  out  of  my  pocket.  It  was 
a  white  rat.  "For  the  love  of  Mike,"  I  said.  All  the 
other  boys  laughed. 

"Come  on,"  said  Shadow  Loomis,  "his  brother  is 
there,  too.  Get  him  out  for  me;  that's  a  good  fellow." 

I  couldn't  believe  him,  even  though  I  had  pulled 
one  out  of  my  pocket,  but  anyway,  to  be  sociable,  I 
put  my  hand  again  in  my  pocket.  Then  I  cried :  "You're 
wrong  this  time.  Pocket  empty.  See?"  I  turned  it 
inside  out.  Shadow  Loomis  shook  his  head.  "He's  in 
there  somewhere,"  he  said.  "My  pets  always  travel 
two  by  two — never  go  out  alone.  Wait;  let's  see.  Some- 
times they  take  the  wrong  way  and  get  lost;  might  be 
back  here — " 

All  this  time  he  was  talking  and  shoving  his  hands 
into  my  pockets,  but  I  grinned,  for  I  felt  that  he  was 
going  to  be  mistaken  this  one  time,  when  all  of  a  sudden 

98 


THE    END    OF    VACATION 

I  felt  a  scratching  down  my  back,  and  as  I  did  so  Shadow 
Loomis  shoved  his  hand  down  behind  my  collar  and 
brought  up  another  white  rat.  "I  told  you  so,"  he  said, 
smiling,  "always  two  by  two,  never  go  out  alone." 

"Well,  I  be  dern,"  said  Jerry  Moore.  "Say,  boy, 
where'd  you  learn  those  tricks?" 

Shadow  Loomis  and  Hudson  Lee  laughed  and  we  all 
joined  in. 

"Come  natural,"  said  Shadow.  "Never  takes  me 
long  to  find  out  anything.  Now,  just  like  that  stuff 
you've  got  in  your  pocket  there.  It's  there,  and  yet  you 
would  say  it  isn't.  I  don't  mind  agreeing  with  you  that 
it  would  be  silly  for  a  fellow  to  carry  around  a  pocketful 
of  stuff  like  that,  but  there's  no  explaining  why  people 
do  some  things.  Throw  it  out  and  be  done  with  it." 

Jerry  shoved  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  drew  it 
out  quickly.  It  was  covered  with  flour.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  gazed  at  the  white  fingers,  and  then  he  blurted 
out: 

"That's  Roy  Dobel's  tomfooling.  He  better  quit 
wasting  the  camp's  flour.  Hey,  you,  Roy!" 

Roy,  who  was  working  around  the  cookstove  up  by 
the  kitchen  tent,  turned  when  he  heard  his  name  and 
called  out,  "What  you  want?" 

Shadow  Loomis  laid  his  hand  on  Jerry's  arm  and 
said:  "Excuse  me  if  I  hurt  your  feelings.  It  was  only 
a  little  fun.  Roy  didn't  do  it,  you  can  take  my  word. 
I'll  teach  you  the  trick  some  day,  and  then  you  can  play 
it  on  Roy." 

Jerry  seemed  to  be  satisfied  and  turned  his  pocket 
inside  out  and  a  lot  of  flour  poured  out  upon  the  ground. 
Shadow  Loomis  put  his  pet  rats  into  his  own  pockets. 
I  noticed  that  he  had  big  pockets,  and  some  of  them  in 
the  lining  of  his  coat,  where  he  carried  his  tricks,  I  sup- 

99 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

pose.  The  boys  were  all  very  much  interested  and 
amused  at  Shadow  Loomis's  tricks,  and  we  took  them 
all  through  our  camp,  which  interested  them  very  much. 
They  seemed  to  think  our  experiences  with  Harkinson, 
which  I  related  to  them,  were  the  best  kind  of  ad- 
venture, and  Hudson  Lee  said  he  would  give  anything 
if  he  could  have  been  with  us  on  some  of  those  times. 
Shadow  Loomis  said  he  should  like  to  meet  this  Har- 
kinson. I  told  him  he  would  be  better  off  if  he  let  Har- 
kinson alone.  At  which  Shadow  Loomis  just  smiled, 
and  I  thought  to  myself  maybe  Shadow  could  put  over 
a  few  of  his  magic  tricks  on  Harkinson  that  would 
scare  the  big  bully  enough  to  last  him  a  long  time. 

Link  had  been  sitting  by  Rosalind  Lee  during  all 
this  talk,  never  noticing  us  at  all.  Rosalind  was  a  very 
cheerful  little  girl,  and  I  don't  blame  Link  for  feeling 
proud  because  she  gave  him  such  fine  compliments. 
But  their  little  chat  was  brought  to  an  end  when  Doc 
Waters  and  Captain  Lee  came  forward.  "All  aboard, 
boys,"  called  Captain  Lee.  We  all  walked  down  to  the 
gangplank  with  them.  Doc  and  the  Captain  were  talk- 
ing about  a  launch  or  a  motorboat  of  some  kind. 

"It's  in  running  order,  all  right,"  Doc  was  saying, 
"but  I  don't  want  a  single  soul  to  touch  her  wheel  till 
the  boy  gets  her.  It's  a  sort  of  a  fancy  his  mother  had, 
and  I  want  to  do  everything  the  way  she  wants." 

"All  right,  Doctor,"  laughed  the  Captain,  "I'll  tow 
her  down  just  as  they  hand  her  over  to  me,  and  not  a 
foot  shall  step  aboard  her  till  the  boy  gets  her.  Come 
along,  youngsters.  Good-by,  Doctor." 

We  watched  them  until  the  steamboat  turned  the 
upper  bend.  The  two  boys  and  Rosalind  hung  to  her 
stern  rail,  waving  at  us  until  they  were  out  of  sight. 
Then  we  turned  again  to  the  tent. 

100 


101 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"What's  the  launch  business  about,  Doc?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  you'll  see  in  time,"  said  Doc,  with  a  grin. 

Link  stood  there  on  the  shore  with  his  arms  folded 
watching  the  bend  where  the  steamer  had  disappeared. 

"She's  gone,  Link,"  I  said. 

"She  sure  is  a  beauty,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  Rosalind,  yes.  I  was  speaking  of  the  steamer," 
I  said. 

"So  was  I,"  retorted  Link,  but  he  blushed  just  the 
same. 

I  just  couldn't  help  teasing  him  a  little  about  the 
girl.  But  when  the  other  boys  tried  it  I  put  a  stop  to 
it  at  once.  I  might  joke  with  my  Skinny  Guy  a  little, 
but  nobody  else  was  going  to  do  it  while  I  was  around. 

"We  will  break  camp  to-morrow,  Hawkins,"  said 
Doc  to  me.  "Have  the  boys  get  things  ready." 

I  broke  the  news  to  the  boys,  and  they  seemed  well 
satisfied  to  go  back  home.  We  had  had  a  good  vacation 
on  the  island,  and  about  all  the  camp  life  we  wanted, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  excitement  Harkinson  had  given 
us.  By  nighttime  we  had  all  things  packed  except  cots 
and  bedding.  And  early  next  morning  we  set  to  work 
packing  that. 

It  was  about  noon  when  the  Hudson  Lee  turned  the 
bend  up  the  river  on  return  trip.  I  noticed  that  she  was 
towing  something,  and  when  she  came  nearer  I  saw  that 
it  was  a  large  motorboat,  the  hull  painted  green  and 
white,  but  her  upper  was  covered  entirely  with  a  tar- 
paulin, showing  only  a  fancy  bit  of  her  cabin  roof.  The 
steamboat  landed  in  the  same  old  spot  and  we  all  ran 
down  to  meet  her. 

Captain  Lee  came  ashore,  followed  by  the  two 
boys  and  Rosalind,  and  greeted  Doc  and  us  boys  heartily. 
Some  of  the  helpers  from  the  steamboat  uncovered  the 

102 


THE    END    OF    VACATION 

motor  boat,  and  what  a  beauty  she  was!  Why,  it  was 
a  regular  little  river  yacht,  and  I  bet  she  cost  close  to 
a  thousand.  Upon  her  white  bows  I  read  the  name 
Cazanova. 

"It's  a  surprise,  Link,"  said  Doc  Waters  to  the  Skinny 
Guy,  who  stood  looking  at  it  with  a  smile  upon  his  thin 
face.  "Your  mother  had  it  made  for  you.  She  didn't 
want  me  to  tell.  So  I  didn't.  And  she  didn't  want  a 
soul  to  go  aboard  until  you  took  hold  of  the  wheel. 
So  there  she  is,  boy,  and  I  hope  you  like  her." 

"Like  her!"  Link  cried.  Then  he  sprang  into  the 
boat  with  a  light  step  and  ran  forward  to  the  little 
wheelhouse.  He  grasped  the  spokes  and  turned  to  us. 
"It's  all  right  now,"  he  called.  "I've  got  hold  of  the 
wheel,  and  you  can  all  come  in." 

It  was  a  beauty.  We  never  got  through  praising 
her.  And  if  Roy  hadn't  called  "lunch"  we  probably 
would  have  stayed  in  her  all  day.  But  our  visitors 
stayed  to  lunch  with  us  and  during  the  afternoon  Hudson 
Lee  and  Shadow  Loomis  joined  us  in  a  game  of  ball, 
while  Rosalind  looked  on.  I  think  Link  batted  the  ball 
better  that  afternoon  than  he  ever  did  in  his  life. 

Meanwhile  Captain  Lee  had  his  men  pack  our 
belongings  into  the  big  launch,  which  could  have  carried 
twice  as  much.  Then  his  mechanics  tested  her  out  and 
found  that  the  Cazanova  was  in  perfect  running  order. 
Will  Standish  offered  to  run  her  back  home  for  us,  and 
to  teach  Link  how  to  run  the  launch.  Will  has  a  beauty 
of  his  own,  and  he  is  an  expert  at  running  one,  as  Link 
and  I  both  knew. 

I  hopped  off  long  enough  to  tell  Hudson  Lee  and 
Shadow  Loomis  that  I  wanted  them  to  come  up  to  our 
clubhouse  some  time.  They  promised  to  come  when 
they  had  a  chance.  They  helped  us  stow  the  canoes  on 

103 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

the  top  deck  of  the  big  launch,  and  we  shook  hands 
all  around,  and  then  it  was  "All  aboard!" 

And  thus  we  left  our  camping  ground  and  went  back 
to  our  own  shore.  The  boys  all  crowded  forward  to  the 
wheelhouse,  watching  Will  Standish,  but  I  went  back 
in  the  stern  and  sat  with  Doc,  who  was  peacefully 
smoking  a  fat  cigar,  watching  the  steamboat  pull  away 
from  the  island  and  start  on  her  trip  down. 


104 


XI 

Link's  Farewell  Party 

WE  WERE  all  glad  to  get  back  to  our  home 
shore  again.  We  had  had  enough  of  camping, 
and  it  was  good  to  be  back  in  our  club  house  in 
the  hollow.  We  held  a  meeting  there  the  morning  after 
we  came  home.  Every  boy  answered  to  his  name  when 
Dick  called  the  roll.  Soon  and  it  would  be  different; 
only  a  few  more  meetings,  and  there  would  be  four  fellows 
who  would  not  be  there  to  answer  when  their  names 
were  called.  For  Oliver  and  Harold,  the  twins,  were 
going  back  to  their  fancy  school  in  Massachusetts,  and 
Link  and  Will  Standish  were  going  to  the  new  home 
that  Link's  mother  and  daddy  had  bought  down  in  the 
blue  grass.  Will  Standish  was  to  live  with  Link's  folks 
until  his  father  would  come  to  take  him  back  to  Cuba. 
Link  made  a  speech  at  that  meeting.  Yes,  sir!  I 
never  knew  the  Skinny  Guy  to  have  the  nerve  to  do  it. 
But  since  he  has  come  back  out  of  Cuba  Link  is  changed 
a  good  deal.  He  keeps  his  hair  cut,  for  one  thing. 
You  would  hardly  know  him;  be  is  a  pretty  good-looking 
kid  when  he's  dressed  up.  He  used  to  look  something 
like  a  clown  when  we  first  met  him,  with  his  hair  curling 
up  behind  his  ears  and  that  everlasting  grin  on  his  thin 
face.  But  that  was  a  different  Link  from  the  one  we 
know  now. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "I  don't  make  good  speeches,  but 
I  felt  like  I  ought  to  tell  you  boys  how  much  I  thank 
you  for  all  the  things  you  did  for  me  since  I  came  to 
this  river.  I'm  sorry  I've  got  to  go,  and  I  wish  you  all 

105 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

could  come  along,  but  that  can't  be,  I  reckon.  But  you 
boys  will  come  down  to  my  house  and  see  me  some  time 
and  we  will  have  lots  of  fun.  Doc  Waters  is  going  to 
give  a  farewell  party,  he  told  me  yesterday.  All  of  you 
boys  have  got  to  be  present.  It's  going  to  be  in  my  new 
launch.  We  will  have  a  good  time,  I  guess;  you  know 
Doc  Waters.  Ice  cream  and  cakes  and  candy  and 
everything." 

The  boys  cheered  Link,  and  he  blushed  as  he  took 
his  seat.  If  there  is  anything  the  boys  like  it's  parties 
Doc  Waters  fixes  up.  The  last  one  we  had  was  the  day 
before  Link  and  I  started  for  Cuba. 

After  the  boys  had  gone  out  to  the  swimming  hole, 
Link  came  to  me  as  I  was  writing  in  my  little  office 
back  of  the  clubroom. 

"Hawkins,"  he  says,  "I'd  like  to  invite  some  friends 
of  mine  to  the  party.  Do  you  think  the  boys  would 
feel  like  it  was  butting  in?" 

"Lord,  no!"  I  exclaimed.  "It's  your  party,  Link. 
You  don't  have  to  ask  anybody  whom  you  shall  invite." 

"Well,  then,  I  want  to  ask  Hudson  Lee  and  Shadow 
Loomis." 

"And  Rosalind." 

"Yes,  of  course,  Rosalind.  Hudson  and  Shadow  are 
fine  boys,  don't  you  think  so,  Hawkins?" 

"They  don't  come  any  better.    And  Rosalind  is — " 

"Then  I'll  invite  the  three  of  'em,"  interrupted 
Link.  "I'll  have  Doc  send  a  message." 

I  smiled  as  I  watched  Link  walk  down  the  path 
toward  the  river.  I  knew  that  Link  liked  little  Rosalind 
Lee  because  she  thought  so  much  of  him  for  fishing  her 
rag  doll  out  of  the  river  some  years  ago.  It  was  only  that 
he  wanted  to  see  her  once  more  before  he  went  away 
that  he  thought  about  inviting  her  brother  and  Shadow 

106 


LINK'S    FAREWELL    PARTY 

Loomis.  I  imagine  Link  would  not  have  grieved  very 
much  if  Hudson  was  unable  to  attend  as  long  as  his 
pretty  little  sister  would  be  there.  I  told  the  other 
boys  that  if  they  cared  to  bring  any  of  their  sisters  to 
the  party  it  would  be  all  right,  as  we  were  going  to  have 
a  regular  party,  and  we  might  as  well  do  it  first  class. 
And  I  knew  Rosalind  would  like  it  better  if  there  were 
other  girls  there.  I  explained  it  to  Doc  Waters,  and  he 
said  it  was  a  good  idea. 

I  wonder  why  it  was  I  felt  so  sure  that  we  had 
nothing  more  to  fear  from  Harkinson?  Since  I  had 
sent  him  back  to  Watertown  with  the  Pelham  leaders 
I  felt  safe.  It  was  only  when  Harold  came  into  my 
little  writing-room  one  morning  that  I  began  to  wonder 
if  the  bully  with  the  queer  eyes  was  really  gone  from 
our  shore. 

"You  seem  to  think  he  will  obey  you  like  a  lamb," 
said  Harold  to  me,  "and  I  think  he  is  only  watching 
for  a  chance  to  get  even  with  us.  You,  in  particular, 
Hawkins.  He  never  can  forget  that  last  punch  you 
gave  him,  and  even  if  it  wasn't  for  that,  he  surely  felt 
awfully  cheap  when  you  turned  the  tables  on  him  and 
made  him  do  as  you  wished." 

"You  think  he  is  back  here,  then?"  I  asked. 

"I  don't  say  that,"  answered  Harold,  "but  it  is  wise 
to  keep  a  lookout  for  him.  He  may  show  up  when 
you  least  expect  him.  And,  believe  me,  when  he  does 
he  will  not  come  single-handed.  He  has  followers,  you 
can  bet.  Now,  this  party:  What's  to  attract  him  more 
than  the  bright  lights  of  a  launch  in  which  there  is  a 
gay  time  going  on?" 

I  thought  of  it  more  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which 
we  were  to  have  the  party.  The  boys  had  come  from 

107 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Doc  Waters's  office  with  a  basketful  of  Japanese  lan- 
terns, which  they  strung  around  the  clubhouse  porch 
and  a  line  of  them  down  to  the  water's  edge.  Yes, 
there  would  be  plenty  to  attract — if  not  Harkinson, 
then  Pelham.  We  never  yet  had  any  kind  of  doings  of 
the  kind  without  a  little  skirmish  with  the  Pelham 
fellows. 

"You  and  I  will  keep  a  watch,"  I  said  to  Harold. 
"Best  that  we  say  nothing  to  the  others.  It  would 
would  only  make  them  all  nervous,  and  how  could 
they  enjoy  a  party  if  they  expected  the  coming  of  such 
a  fellow  as  Harkinson?" 

"It's  the  best  way,"  said  Harold. 

That  afternoon  we  had  a  game  of  ball,  and  it  was 
hardly  finished  when  there  came  the  sound  of  the 
steamboat  whistle  of  the  Hudson  Lee — every  boy  can 
tell  you  what  steamboat  is  passing  by  the  sound  of  her 
whistle.  Every  whistle  sounds  different,  and  you  get 
to  know  each  boat  by  the  whistle.  Well,  we  knew  this 
was  the  Hudson  Lee. 

We  all  ran  down  to  meet  the  big  boat,  for  it  was 
bringing  back  the  three  friends  Link  had  invited  to  his 
party.  Link's  new  motor  boat  lay  tied  up  at  our  little 
wharf,  and  the  steamer  had  to  slow  up  and  wait  until 
we  moved  the  new  boat  out  of  her  way.  Only  one  boat 
can  land  at  our  little  wharf  at  one  time.  Will  Standish 
saw  that  the  big  steamer  waited,  and  he  sprang  into  the 
launch  and  took  her  up  the  river  a  piece,  where  he  held 
her  steady  until  the  Hudson  Lee  had  made  the  landing. 
Then  he  brought  the  Cazanova  alongside  the  steamboat 
and  made  her  fast. 

The  first  one  off  the  steamer's  gangplank  was  Shadow 
Loomis.  He  looked  happy  as  he  came  running  to  us. 
"Hello!"  he  yelled;  "I'm  back  again  with  a  bundle  of 

108 


LINK'S    FAREWELL    PARTY 

new  tricks.  No  rats,  though."  Then  he  turned  to 
Jerry  Moore  and  said:  "No  more  flour  in  pockets, 
either." 

"Where's  Hudson?"  I  asked.  "Hope  he  didn't 
disappoint  us." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Shadow,  "he  is  on  deck.  He's 
not  allowed  to  leave  the  boat  till  Rosalind  is  ready. 
She's  been  taking  a  nap  since  we  started,  and  she  just 
woke  up.  She's  putting  on  her  new  dress,  I  think. 
There's  Huddy  now.  Poor  kid,  his  pop  always  makes 
him  wait  till  Rosalind  is  ready  to  come  on  shore." 

Hudson  had  come  to  the  rail  of  the  cabin  deck  and 
saluted  us  boys.  We  all  saluted  back. 

"Shore  ahoy!"  he  yelled.  "What's  hi  the  wind, 
Hawkins?" 

"Come  and  see,"  I  shouted  back. 

At  that  moment  Rosalind  came  out  of  her  cabin, 
and  within  a  few  minutes  both  of  them  came  down 
the  gangplank  to  join  us. 

"Hello,  Hawkins,"  sang  out  Hudson,  as  he  came  up 
and  held  out  his  hand.  He  was  the  greatest  boy  for 
shaking  hands  I  ever  knew.  But  I  liked  him.  "I  didn't 
expect  to  be  back  so  soon,  old  Seckatary." 

"Glad  you  came,"  I  said. 

"Sure,"  said  he,  "and  so  is  Shadow.  Ever  since  he 
met  you,  Hawkins,  he  has  been  wanting  to  come  back. 
I've  been  telling  him  about  your  Pelham  enemies  across 
the  river." 

"Lead  me  to  'em,"  said  Shadow,  with  a  grin.  "If  I 
don't  scare  every  one  of  'em  into  fits  I'm  a  monkey." 

"I  wish  you  could,"  I  said,  laughing  at  the  funny 
way  he  spoke.  "Believe  me,  Shadow,  there  are  times 
when  we  could  use  you.  We  can't  do  any  of  those  magic 
tricks  that  you  know.  So  all  we  can  do  is  to  turn  the 

109 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

trick  with  our  fists,  if  we  are  able.    And  sometimes  we 
get  the  worst  of  that,  too." 

Shadow  walked  down  a  little  way  so  that  he  could 
look  beyond  the  steamboat  and  get  a  view  of  Pelham. 

"Dirty  looking  place,"  he  said.  "Like  a  rat's  nest. 
Look  there:  a  boat  is  pulling  away  from  the  river. 
Who's  that  cross-looking  kid  with  the  green  cap?" 

"That's  Briggen,"  I  answered.  "He's  the  leader  of 
Pelham." 

"Huh,"  grunted  Shadow.  "I  bet  he's  a  tough 
customer.  Look!  I  believe  they're  pulling  for  this 
side.  Yes,  they're  coming  here,  all  right.  Now  I'll 
get  a  chance  to  hear  how  these  birds  talk.  Step  up 
here,  Hawkins.  They  won't  want  to  talk  to  me." 

While  we  waited  for  the  Pelham  boat  I  glanced 
around  and  saw  Captain  Lee  and  another  officer  of  the 
steamboat  walking  up  the  river  path  toward  Doc 
Waters's  house,  and  following  them  went  the  Skinny 
Guy  and  little  Rosalind,  talking  and  laughing  as  they 
went.  Rosalind  seemed  to  be  very  proud  of  her  new 
party  dress,  and  from  the  way  Link  nodded  his  head  I 
imagined  he  was  telling  her  it  was  a  very  beautiful 
dress  indeed. 

When  I  turned  my  eyes  back  to  the  river  the  Pelham 
flat  boat  was  pulling  sharply  around  the  paddle-wheel  of 
the  big  steamer.  Briggen  sat,  arms  folded,  in  the  stern, 
while  Ham  Gardner  and  Dave  Burns  handled  the  oars. 
I  walked  down  to  meet  them  and  Shadow  Loomis  walked 
beside  me.  Jerry  kept  the  other  boys  up  on  the  bank. 
Briggen  leaped  out  of  the  boat  and  came  up. 

"Who's  the  new  guy?"  he  asked,  nodding  his  head 
toward  Shadow  Loomis.  "Tell  him  to  clear  out.  I  got 
to  talk  to  you  private,  Hawkins." 

110 


LINK'S    FAREWELL    PARTY 

I  followed  Briggen  over  to  the  bushes  on  the  side  of 
the  path. 

"Well?"  I  said. 

"I  come  to  ask  you,"  began  Briggen  in  a  low  voice, 
"what  you  guys  are  up  to  now.  Our  watchman  saw 
you,  all  right.  I  can't  figger  out  your  game,  Hawkins. 
If  you  think  us  boys  double-crossed  you — " 

"Nonsense,"  I  broke  in.  "You're  talking  foolish. 
As  long  as  you  fellows  stay  on  your  side  of  the  river  we 
have  nothing  against  you." 

"We  will  stay  on  our  side  as  long  as  you  guys  stay 
on  yours,"  said  Briggen. 

"I  think  we  have  been  staying  pretty  close  to  our 
shore,"  I  said,  "and  I  know  none  of  us  have  been  over 
there  since  we  came  back  from  camp." 

"Well,  then,  who  has?  Lanigan  saw  'em,  and  he 
don't  lie  to  me.  There  was  a  bunch  of  'em  last  night 
spying  around.  If  it  wasn't  your  fellas,  who  was  it?" 

"Harkinson,"  I  answered;  "him  and  his  pals." 

Briggen's  face  faded  a  little  and  his  jaw  dropped. 
"You  mean  it?"  he  asked.  "You  mean  that  hypnotizer 
come  back — ?" 

"Briggen,"  I  said,  "I  am  going  to  warn  you  boys  to 
keep  your  eyes  open.  I  haven't  seen  him,  no.  That's 
the  worst  part  of  it.  I  wish  I  had.  You  know  what  he 
is.  If  you  find  out  anything  us  boys  will  help  you  out 
if  you  need  help.  But  you  better  lay  low  and  keep  out 
of  the  way.  Now  go  back.  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you. 
I've  got  company  to-day." 

That  night  we  had  the  party.  It  was  a  fine  affair. 
Doc  Waters  brought  down  old  Judge  Granbery  and  the 
Sheriff,  Link's  daddy  and  mother,  and  old  Abner  Green, 

111 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

the  colored  servant,  who  was  to  prepare  the  feast.  We 
had  the  clubhouse  lighted  with  lanterns,  and  from  the 
porch  down  to  the  steamboat  there  streamed  a  long  line 
of  colored  lights  that  made  the  place  look  bright  and 
cheery.  Lew  Hunter  brought  the  preacher,  and  when 
those  grown-up  folks  met  in  our  clubhouse  they  seemed 
to  enjoy  it  as  much  as  we  did.  Bill  Darby  brought  his 
sister  Lillian  and  Jerry  Moore's  sisters  Ella  and  Grace 
came  with  him.  They  all  seemed  to  like  Rosalind  very 
much.  This  was  the  first  party  we  had  to  which  girls 
had  been  invited  since  the  Valentine  Day  when  Link 
fished  Rosalind's  doll  out  of  the  river  and  sent  it  to  her 
as  a  valentine.  You  remember  that?  Well,  it  seemed 
odd  to  have  girls  in  our  clubhouse;  but  they  thought 
it  was  just  grand. 

We  had  to  sing,  of  course :  Judge  Granbery  demanded 
that.  So  Lew  had  to  get  up  to  the  organ,  and  we  stood 
around  and  let  the  Judge  have  every  song  we  knew. 
The  old  Judge  sat  with  his  eyes  half  closed  and  a  smile 
on  his  face  while  we  sang.  Doc  looked  proud  of  us  boys. 
Link's  mother  listened  with  a  happy  face,  and  often  I 
saw  her  hand  steal  to  her  cheek  and  brush  her  eye- 
lashes. 

Then  the  girls  had  their  little  speeches  to  make,  too. 
All  of  them  could  recite.  Such  nice,  sad  pieces.  Every- 
body clapped  their  hands.  I  was  glad  when  I  saw  the 
dusky  face  of  Abner  in  the  doorway,  whispering  for 
Doc.  Old  Abner  was  all  decked  out  in  a  white  suit 
like  a  waiter.  "It's  all  ready,  suh,"  he  whispered  to 
Doc.  "De  table  am  set  'n  ev'athing." 

Then  we  all  followed  Doc  down  to  Link's  new  launch 
that  lay  on  the  river  like  a  fairy  house,  its  bright  lights 
shining  through  the  little  windows  onto  the  water  like 
streams  of  gold.  It  was  a  happy  party  that  followed  the 

112 


LINK'S    FAREWELL    PARTY 

lines  of  hanging  lanterns  down  to  that  new  boat  of 
Link's.  And  when  we  entered  we  saw  before  us  the 
whole  length  of  the  main  cabin  a  long  table,  set  for  two 
dozen  persons,  ice  cream,  cakes,  candy,  all  kinds  of 
goodies — oh,  boy! 

But  it  was  a  hot  night.  I  had  not  been  in  there 
long  before  I  felt  as  though  I  just  had  to  have  a  breath 
of  that  cool  river  breeze.  So,  while  everybody  was 
laughing  and  talking,  I  slipped  out  unnoticed.  I  went 
out  the  front  door  onto  the  deck  and  turned  and  walked 
around  the  cabin  toward  the  rear.  I  was  hoping  Shadow 
Loomis  would  take  a  notion  to  come  outside,  as  I  would 
like  to  sit  out  here  and  talk  with  him  a  while.  But  I 
could  see  him  as  I  looked  through  the  window,  and  he 
was  so  interested  in  the  ice  cream  and  Bill  Darby's 
sister  Lillian  that  I  knew  he  was  going  to  stay  as  long 
as  the  party  lasted.  I  had  just  noticed  that  there  was 
another  vacant  chair  at  the  table  inside,  when  I  bumped 
against  someone  in  the  dark. 

"Good  Lord!"  I  exclaimed  with  a  sudden  fright. 
"Who  is  it?" 

"Hush,  Hawkins,"  came  Harold's  voice.  "What 
brought  you  out  here?" 

"The  heat,"  I  said.  "It's  too  hot  in  there.  I've  got 
to  have  air  or  I  die." 

"Sit  down,"  said  Harold,  pulling  a  deck  chair  up 
beside  his.  It  was  more  of  a  campstool  than  a  deck 
chair,  except  that  it  had  a  back  to  it.  I  sat  down  and 
leaned  back.  "Now,"  said  Harold,  "this  is  fine.  Bully 
breeze  on  the  river." 

"Something  else  beside  breeze,"  I  said.  "Look 
yonder  at  Pelham.  It  seems  as  though  our  neighbors 
across  the  water  are  anxious  to  find  out  what  our  feast- 
ing is  about." 

8  113 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Harold  bent  forward  and  peered  through  the  dark 
toward  Pelham.  There  was  no  moon,  and  the  light 
from  the  windows  of  the  boat  made  it  seem  darker  over 
the  side.  A  few  lights  were  moving  here  and  there  on 
the  Pelham  shore.  It  was  too  dark  to  make  out  who 
carried  the  lanterns.  There  seemed  to  come  to  me  once 
the  sound  of  an  oar  splash  which  sounded  very  near  our 
boat.  I  told  Harold  of  Briggen's  visit  in  the  afternoon. 
He  looked  very  interested.  He  turned  to  me,  and  I 
could  see,  even  in  the  darkness  there  that  his  face  had 
a  worried  look. 

"Hawkins,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "I  am  going 
to  leave  to-morrow,  and  so  is  Ollie  and  Link  and  Will 
Standish.  It  will  leave  you  with  only  a  few  boys — " 

'Til  manage,"  I  said.  "I'll  get  by.  There's  only 
one  thing  that  worries  me." 

"Harkinson?" 

"Yes,  I  seem  to  feel  that  he  has  come  back,  Harold. 
I  believe  he  is  here.  I  can  feel  it.  I  would  not  be  sur- 
prised if — " 

Harold  clapped  his  hand  over  my  mouth  and  cut 
off  my  words.  There  was  a  sound  below  us  on  the 
water.  We  rose  silently  from  our  chairs  and  backed 
close  to  the  wall  of  the  cabin  and  held  our  breath.  The 
light  from  a  window  of  the  boat  streamed  upon  the  rail 
in  a  yellow  patch.  While  we  watched  we  saw  a  hand 
raise  itself  over  the  gunwale.  We  stood  there,  crouching, 
as  though  we  were  unable  to  move.  I  knew  that  hand 
that  was  grasping  our  gunwale.  It  told  me  that  before 
another  minute  passed  we  would  be  facing  the  one  we 
feared  would  come. 

The  next  moment  Harold  moved.  In  a  flash  he 
came  back  with  a  wooden  pin  that  had  been  set  in  the 
rail,  with  a  light  coil  of  rope  wound  around  it.  He 

114 


WHILE  VF  WAKHFP,  A  HAM17  l?AtSrP 

115 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

raised  it  swiftly  and  brought  it  down  twice  in  rapid 
succession  upon  the  ugly  big  hand  that  grasped  our 
gunwale.  It  disappeared,  and  we  heard  a  splash  in  the 
water  below. 

Without  looking  to  see,  we  hurried  inside  the  boat 
just  as  good-nights  were  being  said.  No  one  seemed  to 
have  missed  us.  We  said  nothing. 


116 


XII 

The  Red  Runners 

SCHOOL   had   opened    again,    and    we    were    all 
busy  with  our    studies.      No    longer    could    we 
meet  every  morning   in   the   little   clubhouse   in 
the  hollow.    From  now  on  until  next  summer  we  would 
have  to  hold  our  regular  meetings  each  day  after  school. 
Link  Lambert  and  Will  Standish  had  gone  and  so  had 
the  twins,  Oliver  and  Harold.     There  were  only  eight 
of  us  left  now — Dick  Ferris,  Lew  Hunter,  Bill  Darby, 
Jerry    Moore,   Johnny    McLarren,    Roy   Dobel,    Perry 
Stokes,  and  myself. 

I  had  not  told  any  of  the  boys  about  the  fellow  who 
tried  to  climb  aboard  the  new  launch  the  night  we  had 
the  party.  Neither  had  Harold.  I  did  not  want  them 
to  think  that  we  might  have  to  put  up  with  Harkinson 
again.  But  it  did  worry  me.  When  Link  or  Harold 
was  with  me  I  always  felt  as  though  I  had  somebody 
whom  I  could  depend  upon  to  help  me  watch  out  for 
such  fellows  as  Harkinson  and  the  Pelham  boys.  But 
I  was  worried  now,  because  I  felt  sure  we  would  receive 
some  sort  of  a  visit  from  Harkmson  sometime,  and 
there  was  I  alone  to  figure  out  a  way  to  beat  him  at  his 
own  game.  I  tried  to  get  Jerry  Moore  and  Bill  Darby 
interested  enough,  but  they  seemed  interested  only 
enough  to  be  afraid.  So  I  thought  of  one  fellow  who 
used  to  be  a  great  side  partner  to  me — Robby  Hood! 
If  I  could  only  get  him  down  here  with  us  again  he  could 
do  a  lot  for  us.  He  was  a  boy  who  could  think,  and 
who  did  think  when  time  came  for  hard  thinking.  I 
called  Perry  Stokes  into  my  little  writing-room  adjoin- 

117 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

ing  the  clubhouse  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  where 
Robby  lived. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  answered.  "In  Watertown,  by  the 
little  bridge." 

"Take  this  note  to  him,"  I  said,  "and  put  it  in  his 
hands.  Don't  give  it  to  anybody  but  Robby.  If  you 
can't  find  him,  bring  the  note  back  to  me." 

Perry  set  off  with  the  note.  I  wrote  Robby  that  I 
wanted  to  talk  to  him,  and  that  I  would  wait  for  him 
in  the  clubhouse  until  he  came.  It  was  after  school 
when  Perry  started  off  with  a  canoe  for  Watertown. 
We  held  our  meeting,  and  then  the  boys  went  out  for 
the  usual  game  of  ball.  I  joined  and  played  for  an 
hour,  and  then  went  up  to  my  little  writing-room  to 
finish  a  letter  I  was  writing  to  Uncle  Lucio. 

Hah*  an  hour  later  Perry  came  in.  He  had  made  the 
trip  very  fast,  and  I  could  tell  by  his  heavy  breathing 
and  the  perspiration  on  his  face  that  he  had  paddled 
fast. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "did  you  find  him?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Perry.  "I  gave  him  your  note, 
Hawkins." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  guess  he  has  a  good  reason  for  not 
wanting  to  come.  What  did  he  say?" 

"Oh,  he  is  coming,  sir,"  said  Perry.  "He  told  me 
to  say  that  he  could  not  come  while  it  was  daylight. 
Said  he  would  come  right  after  supper.  He  wants 
you  to  be  waiting  for  him  here." 

"All  right.    What  else  did  he  say?" 

"He  asked  me  about  you,  how  you  looked  since  you 
got  back,  and  how  you  liked  Cuba.  I  couldn't  answer 
all  his  questions,  Hawkins.  I  told  him  you  would  tell 
him  everything  when  he  came  down  here." 

"Where  did  you  find  him,  Perry?" 
118 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"He  was  in  his  workshop,  sir.  He  has  a  nice  shed 
behind  his  father's  factory.  He  makes  all  kinds  of 
things.  He  has  a  wonderful  workbench  and  fine  tools. 
He's  built  a  motor  boat.  You  should  see  it.  It's  a 
beauty." 

"All  right,  Perry.    You  did  fine.    Thanks  for  going." 

"Don't  mention  it,  sir." 

Perry  ran  out  to  join  the  boys,  and  I  finished  my 
letter  and  sealed  it  up,  and  then  called  the  boys.  It 
was  growing  dark  and  time  for  them  to  be  going  home. 
I  told  them  I  would  be  down  at  the  clubhouse  after 
supper  if  any  of  them  cared  to  come  down.  I  had  the 
key  these  days,  and  no  one  was  allowed  in  the  clubhouse 
unless  I  was  around  to  keep  an  eye  on  them.  Dick 
had  asked  me  to  keep  the  key.  Dick  was  a  good  Cap- 
tain, but  he  always  felt  a  little  bit  afraid  that  he  couldn't 
manage  things  to  suit  us  boys.  He  had  been  elected 
Captain  more  than  a  year  ago,  and  he  always  tried  to 
keep  the  boys  together  and  out  of  mischief;  but  when 
it  came  to  anything  outside  of  the  regular  meeting  La 
the  clubhouse  Dick  always  came  for  advice. 

So  when  we  had  returned  from  our  camp  on  the  island 
Dick  had  asked  me  to  keep  the  key  of  the  clubhouse. 
Our  exciting  adventures  on  the  island  were  enough  to 
make  Dick  understand  that  trouble  from  Harkinson 
might  come  again.  Dick  was  a  smart  boy. 

Perry  was  out  at  the  gate  waiting  for  me  when  I 
finished  my  supper  and  started  down  to  the  clubhouse 
in  the  hollow.  He  had  taken  a  liking  to  me,  Perry  had, 
and  he  always  tried  to  show  me  that  he  was  glad  that 
he  was  allowed  to  be  in  our  club.  So  I  walked  with  him 
down  the  river  path  and  unlocked  the  clubhouse  and  lit 
the  lamps.  I  took  the  rifle  out  of  the  cupboard  and 
handed  it  to  Perry. 

119 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Here,"  I  said,  "y°u'U  have  to  be  watchman  for 
me,  Perry.  This  gun  isn't  to  shoot  with,  you  under- 
stand. It's  just  to  scare  anybody  away  from  here  who 
has  no  business  around  our  clubhouse." 

"Pelham  and  such,"  said  Perry,  nodding. 

I  smiled  as  he  went  out  to  take  his  stand  in  front 
of  the  clubhouse,  and  I  thought  to  myself  that  it  would 
not  be  a  good  thing  for  anybody  to  try  to  break  past 
Perry  Stokes.  But  I  had  seen  to  it  that  the  gun  was 
not  loaded.  I  knew  that  in  Perry's  hands  it  did  not  have 
to  be  loaded.  He  would  turn  anybody  away  without 
the  need  of  a  gun,  and  if  he  did  come  to  a  point  where 
he  needed  it  he  could  use  it  as  a  club  just  as  well.  I  was 
yet  to  learn  what  a  valuable  lieutenant  Perry  Stokes 
was  to  be. 

It  felt  strange  down  in  the  clubhouse  at  night. 
The  everlasting  sound  of  the  crickets  hi  the  high  weeds 
and  the  bass-fiddle  voices  of  the  frogs  in  the  marshy 
places  came  through  the  window  like  a  duet.  A  screech 
owl  somewhere  in  the  tree  that  hung  over  the  back 
window  sang  his  chilly  notes  from  time  to  time.  Across 
the  river  a  Pelham  dog  barked.  From  the  southward 
came  the  deep  sound  of  a  steamboat  whistle.  Outside 
of  that  it  was  a  quiet  night. 

I  grew  tired  of  waiting.  I  began  to  fear  that  Robby 
Hood  was  not  going  to  come.  Perhaps  he  could  not  get 
away,  after  all.  Ever  since  the  excitement  last  year 
with  the  terrible  accident  to  Stoner's  Boy,  Robby's 
father  had  been  against  his  coming  down  here  at  all. 
But  I  thought  all  that  had  blown  over.  I  did  not  think 
that  would  hinder  him. 

I  heard  a  sound  out  on  the  porch  at  last,  and  thought 
that  he  had  come.  But  it  was  Bill  Darby  and  Jerry 

120 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Moore.  A  little  later  Lew  Hunter  and  Dick  Ferris 
came  in.  It  was  the  first  time  we  had  come  down  to 
the  clubhouse  at  night.  They  all  seemed  to  enjoy  it, 
and  it  seemed  to  mark  the  end  of  summer,  too,  for  the 
first  thing  they  got  out  were  the  checkerboards,  and  be- 
fore long  two  games  were  going  strong  in  the  front 
room  of  the  clubhouse.  I  sat  still  in  my  writing-room 
and  waited. 

It  was  no  more  than  five  minutes  later  when  there 
came  a  light  step  on  the  porch,  and  the  front  door  was 
hurriedly  opened  and  in  rushed  Robby  Hood! 

There  he  was.  The  same  old  Robby,  only  he  was 
dressed  different.  The  first  time  we  had  ever  seen 
Robby  he  wore  velvet  breeches  and  a  feather  in  his 
cap.  No  more  of  that  now.  Smart  city  clothes  and  a 
gray  check  cap.  The  boys  in  the  front  room  leaped  to 
greet  him.  But  he  held  up  his  finger  and  said: 

"Hush!     Where's  Hawkins?" 

I  stepped  out  as  quickly  as  I  could  and  grabbed 
him  by  the  hand. 

"You  old  Seckatary!"  he  exclaimed.  "Look  just  the 
same.  Never  changed  a  bit  since  I  saw  you  last.  Gee, 
it's  good  to  be  back  here  again." 

"Let's  have  a  song,"  suggested  Lew  Hunter,  going 
toward  the  organ.  But  Robby  held  him. 

"No,  not  just  now,  if  you  please,  Lew,"  he  said. 
"A  little  later,  maybe.  You  boys  go  on  with  your 
checkers.  Looks  like  you  can  jump  Dick's  king  here  in 
a  minute,  Lew.  Finish  the  game  and  then  we  will  sing. 
I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  Hawkins." 

I  led  him  back  to  my  little  writing-room  as  the  boys 
sat  down  again  to  their  games.  He  looked  around  at 
my  little  office  with  a  pleased  smile. 

121 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Hot  dog!"  he  said.  "You're  way  out  there,  Haw- 
kins. This  is  swell,  this  is.  The  boys  have  this  ready 
for  you  when  you  got  back?" 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "I  like  it,  too.  But  I  was  getting  sick 
and  tired  of  it  waiting  here  for  you.  Sit  down.  Let's 
talk." 

I  sat  at  the  little  desk.  Robby  walked  over  to  the 
window  beside  my  desk  and  pulled  down  the  blind. 
"If  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  Hawkins,"  he  said,  "let's 
keep  'em  down." 

I  nodded,  and  Robby  sat  down  across  the  desk  from 
me.  "All  right,"  he  said.  "Tell  me,  what's  the  trouble 
down  here  now?  Pelham  starting  something?" 

"No,"  I  said,  "Pelham  is  all  right.  Watertown 
sends  us  most  of  our  trouble  now.  Stoner  was  a  bad 
egg,  Robby,  but  he  was  nothing  like  a  fellow  who  has 
showed  up  here  this  summer.  I  believe  he  used  to 
chum  with  Stoner.  At  least  one  thing  is  certain:  he 
uses  that  same  old  brass  horn  that  Stoner  used  to  blow 
around  here  to  let  us  know  he  was  going." 

Robby  sat  looking  at  me  with  a  pucker  in  his  fore- 
head. Then  the  next  instant  he  was  up  and  flew  to  the 
window,  where  he  carefully  pulled  the  blind  a  little  to 
one  side  and  peeped  out.  Then  he  walked  back  to  his 
chair  and  sat  down. 

"I've  got  a  little  fight  on  myself,  Hawkins,"  he  says; 
"but  I  think  I  can  handle  it  all  right.  Go  on.  What 
were  you  saying?" 

"Robby,"  I  said  to  him,  "seems  to  me  you've  got 
something  on  your  mind  that  won't  help  us  any.  Why 
do  you  go  to  that  window  and  look  out?  Why  did  you 
want  that  shade  down?  Is  there  somebody  after  you? 
Do  you  think  someone  has  followed  you  here? 

"Think  it?  I  know  it,"  said  Robby.  "The  whole 
122 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

caboodle  followed  me  here.  That's  why  I  was  so  long 
in  coming.  I  started  twice,  and  each  time  they  saw  me. 
The  third  time  I  gave  them  the  slip.  That  is,  I  think 
I  gave  them  the  slip.  But  they're  so  darn  slick,  Haw- 
kins, I'm  never  surprised  when  they  turn  up  right  in 
front  of  me." 

Here  was  a  nice  mess.  I  was  trying  to  get  Robby 
Hood  down  here  to  help  us  keep  out  of  trouble.  And 
what  had  the  bloomin'  kid  done  but  brought  some  more 
trouble  right  to  our  door. 

"Who  is  it?"  I  asked.  "Who  is  this  caboodle  you 
talk  about?  They  seem  to  be  as  slick  as  Stoner's  Boy 
ever  was,  if  they  can  track  you  like  that." 

"Listen,  Hawkins,"  said  Robby,  "it  is  Stoner's  old 
gang.  The  Red  Runners — that's  what  they're  called 
— they  each  wear  a  red  sweater,  and  they  never  walk 
unless  they  are  forced  to.  Always  running — always 
after  somebody  they  got  it  in  for,  and  this  time  it 
happens  to  be  me." 

"Who's  the  leader  of  this  bunch?"  I  asked.  I 
watched  Robby  closely.  I  had  been  thinking  while 
he  was  talking.  I  had  figured  out  that  this  was  Har- 
kinson  and  his  pals. 

"Long  Tom,"  said  Robby;  "he  is  the  leader  since 
Stoner's  gone.  They're  worse  now  than  when  Stoner 
was  here." 

"Ah,  I  remember  Long  Tom,"  I  said;  "I  had  hoped 
he  was  gone  from  Watertown." 

"I  wish  he  was,"  said  Robby;  "he  and  his  side  partner 
— a  fellow  named  Harkinson — " 

"I  have  met  him,"  I  said.  Robby  looked  up  in 
surprise. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "so  Harkinson  has  been  to  visit 
you?  No  wonder  you  sent  for  me.  Well,  Hawkins, 

123 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

you've  sent  for  the  right  party.  I  know  every  hook 
and  crook  of  these  Red  Runners.  Wait  till  you  see 
them.  Harkinson  is  only  a  private  in  the  ranks.  It's 
Long  Tom  that  has  the  say-so  over  the  Red  Runners. 
Harkinson  had  a  spat  with  him  about  it  this  summer, 
and  Harkinson  left  the  gang  for  a  while — : 

"He  came  down  here,"  I  interrupted.  "He  picked 
himself  a  job  with  the  Pelham  boys.  He  bossed  them 
around  until  they  called  on  us  to  chase  him  off." 

"Which  you  did,"  said  Robby.  "Well,  then,  no 
wonder  he  has  it  in  for  you.  Hawkins,  you  can  make 
up  your  mind  that  if  this  fellow  has  a  grudge  against 
you—" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I've  thought  that  all  out,  Robby. 
I  want  you  down  here  with  me.  I  know  we  will  have  to 
use  our  wits  against  Harkinson's,  and  Long  Tom,  too, 
if  he  can  get  that  bully  to  join  him.  That's  what  I 
wanted  to  talk  over  with  you." 

Robby  laughed. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it  seems  that  we  are  both  in  for  it, 
and  we  might  as  well  work  together.  I'll  have  to  be  off 
now,  though;  it's  getting  late.  You  may  not  hear  from 
me  for  a  few  days.  But  I'll  keep  my  eyes  open  for  these 
birds;  if  I  hear  of  anything  you  should  know  I'll  come 
down.  I  hope  to  be  with  you  boys  often  now,  Hawkins." 
"I  wish  you  could,"  I  said.  Together  we  walked  out 
and  Robby  said  good-bye  to  the  four  checker  players 
in  the  front  room.  Then  we  went  out  on  the  porch  and 
down  the  steps.  A  bright  moon  was  shining,  and  a 
shadow  fell  across  the  moonlit  path  as  Perry  Stokes 
stepped  up  to  us,  his  gun  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Come  along,  Perry,"  I  said. 

We  three  walked  down  to  the  river  together. 

"I  had  to  paddle  down,"  explained  Robby,  "because 

124 


125 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

I  feared  they  would  hear  my  motor.  But  I  guess 
I'll  risk  it  going  back.  It's  hard  work  paddling  a  heavy 
boat  upstream." 

He  crawled  under  the  willows,  and,  as  we  stood  upon 
the  bank  and  watched,  a  dark,  narrow  skiff  shot  out 
from  under  the  willows.  I  saw  it  was  a  skiff  with  a 
motor  attachment.  When  he  had  gone  a  fair  distance 
he  slid  to  the  stern  and  there  came  to  us  the  rat-tat-tat 
of  the  motor  as  the  boat  leaped  forward.  I  was  just 
congratulating  myself  that  Robby  had  got  away  safe 
when  I  felt  Perry's  hand  upon  my  arm,  and  I  was  pulled 
back  into  the  shadows  behind  a  tree. 

"Look!"  whispered  Perry. 

There,  on  the  ridge  of  the  river  bank  was  a  line  of  run- 
ning figures — like  silhouettes,  gliding  past  in  single  file, 
and  I  recognized  the  two  in  front  as  Long  Tom,  whom 
I  had  not  seen  for  many  months,  and  the  long-armed,  un- 
gainly Harkinson.  They  ran  without  making  a  sound,  as 
though  they  barely  touched  the  ground.  And,  truly,  I  had 
never  seen  boys  run  so  fast  or  so  quietly.  I  did  not  think 
to  count  them,  but  there  must  have  been  a  dozen.  They 
sped  past  like  shadows  in  the  moonlight.  Each  wore 
a  red  sweater  and  an  oddly  shaped  cap.  I  knew  they 
had  seen  Robby  start  up  the  river  in  his  boat.  I  did 
not  know  how  fast  that  boat  of  Robby's  was,  but  I  knew 
it  would  have  to  be  a  good  motor  to  travel  faster  than 
the  Red  Runners. 

A  clump  of  bushes  this  side  of  the  bend  hid  them  from 
our  view.  Perry  looked  at  me  and  said:  "Shall  we 
follow?" 

"Follow!"  I  said.  "Follow  our  nose  and  turn  that 
homeward." 

Which  we  did. 


126 


XIII 

The  Silver  Cup 

somebody  to  see  you,  Hawkins,"  said 
Jerry  Moore,  as  I  walked  up  the  steps  of  our  club- 
house  porch.  "Robby  Hood  brought  them  here 
about  ten  minutes  ago.  I  told  'em  to  wait  for  you  in 
your  writing  room." 

"Thanks,  Jerry,"  I  said,  and  hurried  on  into  the  club- 
house and  back  to  my  little  office  room.  Robby  Hood 
and  two  other  boys  were  sitting  there. 

"Hello,  Robby,"  I  said,  "I'm  glad  to  see  you  still 
alive.  I  suppose  you've  been  too  swift  for  the  Red 
Runners?" 

Robby  laughed.  "Did  you  see  them  the  other  night?" 
he  asked.  "By  Jingo,  Hawkins,  I  had  to  pray  bard  that 
the  motor  wouldn't  stop  on  me.  I'd  have  been  a  goner 
if  it  had.  Of  course,  I  beat  them  all  the  way. 
But,  say,  meet  Jerome  and  Kendricks,  two  friends  of 
mine." 

I  stepped  forward  and  shook  hands  with  the  two 
new  boys.  Robby  went  on  talking. 

"They're  the  leaders  of  the  Happy  Days  Club  up 
hi  Watertown.  They've  got  a  little  trouble  they  asked 
me  help  'em  out  with,  and  it's  got  me  stumped.  I  knew 
you  were  good  at  figuring  out  things,  Hawkins,  so  I 
told  them  we  might  come  down  and  talk  to  you  about  it." 
"Sure,"  I  said,  "I'm  always  glad  to  help.  But  I'm 
afraid  I  won't  be  any  more  help  at  figuring  out  this 
thing  if  it  has  stumped  you,  Robby." 

"Wait  and  let  Jerome  tell  you.    Go  ahead,  Jerome." 
127 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

The  light-haired  fellow  to  whom  Robby  had  spoken 
brought  his  chair  a  little  closer  to  my  desk  and  began : 

"Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  our  baseball  team,  the 
Happy  Days  nine.  We  lost  but  one  game  the  whole  sea- 
son, and  we  won  the  silver-cup  trophy.  It  was  a  great 
show  in  our  clubhouse  for  the  past  two  weeks.  But  it 
has  been  stolen." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "I  see.  You  think  I'm  going  to  be 
able  to  tell  you  who  took  it?  Now,  listen,  you  boys  are 
welcome  to  my  help  when  you  can  use  me,  but,  for  good- 
ness sake,  give  me  something  easy.  How  on  earth — 

"Wait  a  minute,  Hawkins,"  interrupted  Robby 
Hood.  "Let  Jerome  tell  you  all  about  it  first.  Then, 
if  you  don't  think  you  can  help  'em,  why  no  harm's 
done." 

"It  was  this  way,"  continued  Jerome.  "The  cup 
was  on  its  shelf  two  days  ago.  When  I  left  our  club- 
house at  supper-time  I  took  a  look  at  it,  and  I  know  it 
was  there.  The  next  day,  after  school,  we  met  as  usual. 
I  was  the  first  one  to  notice  that  the  cup  was  missing. 
The  leather  case  on  the  shelf  where  it  had  stood  was 
empty." 

"You  searched  the  whole  place?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  everywhere.    The  silver  cup  was  not  found." 

"You  have  no  idea  who  took  it?"  I  asked  again. 

The  boy  called  Jerome  motioned  to  the  other  who 
was  called  Kendricks,  and  moved  his  chair  back. 

"Kendricks  thinks  he  knows  a  little  that  might  help 
to  find  the  thief." 

"I  don't  know  whether  it  will  or  not,"  said  Kendricks, 
"but  I  came  back  to  the  clubhouse  after  supper  that 
evening.  The  cup  was  there  then.  I  stayed  only  a  little 
while,  and  then  started  for  Jerome's  house.  He  and  I 
were  going  to  a  picture  show  that  night.  As  I  walked 

128 


THE    SILVER    CUP 

up  the  street  about  a  half  a  block  from  the  clubhouse, 
I  turned  and  looked  back.  I  thought  I  saw  a  couple  of 
boys  looking  up  at  the  windows  of  our  club.  I  believe 
all  the  boys  in  our  school  would  like  to  join  it  if  they 
could,  but  we  only  allow  a  dozen  boys  in  the  club.  But 
the  next  day  when  Jerome  discovered  the  cup  was  stolen 
I  remembered  these  boys  I  had  seen." 

"Did  you  know  them?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  replied  Kendricks,  "I  could  not  recognize 
them  from  that  distance,  anyway.  There  was  only  one 
thing  that  I  could  remember.  One  of  the  boys  had  his 
hand,  his  right  hand,  I  think,  tied  with  a  white  bandage. 
It  seemed  to  be  hanging  in  a  sling,  too,  as  though  he 
might  have  a  sore  hand  or  sprained  wrist." 

At  once  an  idea  struck  me.  But  I  did  not  say  any- 
thing to  the  boys  about  it.  I  simply  said : 

"Have  you  boys  had  any  trouble  with  the  Red 
Runners?" 

Robby  Hood  laughed.  "There's  not  a  boy  in  Water- 
town  who  has  not  had  some  trouble  with  those  red 
coats,  Hawkins.  Sure,  the  Happy  Days  Club  knows 
'em." 

Jerome  smiled,  while  Kendricks  frowned. 

"Once,"  said  Jerome,  "we  had  to  give  them  a  lick- 
ing to  teach  them  to  stay  off  our  baseball  diamond. 
But  they  have  never  bothered  us  since." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I'll  come  up  to  your  clubhouse  to- 
morrow and  take  a  look.  Maybe  I  can  help  you  a  little. 
You  know  I  will  if  I  can.  I  am  sure  glad  to  have  met 
you  boys,  and  I  hope  you'll  come  down  here  and  see  us 
often.  Robby,  when  will  you  be  here  again?" 

"To-morrow,"  said  Robby,  "I'll  come  and  fetch  you 
in  my  motor  boat." 

And  so  they  went  back,  and  I  sat  there  in  my  little 

9  129 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

office  and  thought  this  over.  The  boy  with  bis  hand  tied 
up,  hanging  in  a  sling — who  could  it  be? — who,  but 
Harkinson,  of  course.  Harkinson  it  was  who  had  tried 
to  climb  over  our  gunwale  that  night  of  Link's  farewell 
party.  But  was  it  Harkinson?  We  did  not  know.  Har- 
old and  I  had  been  sitting  there  on  the  deck  of  the  boat 
in  the  dark  talking  about  Harkinson.  When  the  hand 
came  over  the  rail  we  thought  it  was  Harkinson,  of 
course.  Harold  gave  that  hand  two  sound  blows  with 
that  wooden  pin — blows  that  would  have  made  the  fellow 
who  owned  that  hand  tie  it  up  in  a  bandage  for  a  couple 
of  weeks.  Harkinson  it  was  who  had  been  sneaking 
around  the  Happy  Days  Club,  and  I  began  to  think  that 
this  thing  wasn't  going  to  be  hard  for  me  to  figure  out 
at  all.  Of  course,  it  must  be  Harkinson. 

The  next  day  after  school  we  held  our  regular  meet- 
ing, and  Robby  arrived  shortly  afterward  with  his  motor 
boat,  and  together  we  went  up  to  Watertown.  The 
Happy  Days  clubhouse  is  a  nice  little  place,  but  I 
can't  say  I  like  it  as  well  as  ours.  It  looks  too  much  like 
town — right  there  on  a  street — I'd  rather  have  our 
little  old  shack  in  the  hollow  near  the  river,  with  lots  of 
trees  all  around.  The  boys  were  very  nice.  Robby  must 
have  told  them  I  was  a  detective  or  something  the  way 
they  watched  me  as  I  looked  around.  I  felt  funny. 

Jerome  and  Kendricks  showed  me  the  shelf  where  the 
silver  cup  had  stood.  The  leather  case  in  which  it  had 
been  kept  was  still  there,  the  lid  open.  I  stood  on  a  chair 
and  looked  upon  the  shelf.  It  was  covered  with  dust, 
and  there  were  fingermarks  on  the  left  side,  and  on  the 
right  a  smudge — that  was  made,  of  course,  with  the 
bandaged  hand — Harkinson's  hand  that  Harold  had 
hit  with  the  wooden  pin. 

"Here's  your  drinking  water,"  called  a  boy  from  the 
J80 


THE    SILVER    CUP 

outside.  Jerome  went  to  the  door  and  took  a  bucket 
from  a  fellow,  and,  as  I  turned  to  look,  the  boy  spoke 
to  me. 

"Hi,  Hawkins,"  he  said. 

"Hello,  Booby,"  I  returned. 

Jerome  gave  the  boy  a  coin — a  dime,  I  think — and  he 
went  away.  "Do  you  know  him?"  asked  Jerome, 
laughing.  "He's  our  handy  man  around  here.  We  have 
him  bring  us  water  and  run  errands  and  things.  He 
doesn't  belong  to  our  club,  but  he's  a  nice  chap.  Seems 
like  everybody  knows  Booby  Warren." 

"I've  almost  forgotten  him,"  I  said.  "I  had  to 
look  twice  to  make  sure.  He  used  to  live  down  our  way. 
But  he  moved  away,  and  we  haven't  seen  much  of  him 
since." 

No-  more  was  said  about  Booby,  and  I  began  to  ask 
the  other  boys  of  the  Happy  Days  Club  if  they  knew 
anything  more  about  the  silver  cup.  I  didn't  learn  any 
more,  however,  and  I  saw  that  I  might  as  well  go  back 
home.  So  I  told  the  Happy  Days  bunch  that  I  would 
let  them  know  if  I  could  tell  them  about  their  missing 
cup,  and  then  I  said  good-bye,  and  Robby  took  me  back 
home  in  his  motor  boat,  promising  to  come  back  the  fol- 
lowing day  after  school. 

That  night  Lew  Hunter  asked  us  to  be  down  to  the 
clubhouse  for  singing  practice.  Jerry  and  a  few  others 
didn't  want  to,  but  I  told  them  it  was  right  to  keep  up 
our  practice,  and  Dick  Ferris,  our  Captain,  gave  out 
orders  that  everybody  should  be  present,  and  so  there 
was  no  more  objection  to  it. 

Lew  had  the  lamps  all  lit  when  we  came  down, 
and  his  music  all  set  out,  with  every  boy's  song  laid 
out  on  the  table  in  front  of  his  proper  place.  When  we 
got  started  it  was  really  lots  of  fun,  and  I  think  all  the 

131 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

boys  were  glad  that  Lew  had  ordered  this  singing  prac- 
tice. 

While  we  were  in  the  middle  of  a  song  we  all  liked 
very  much  the  door  flew  open  and  in  rushed  Rob  by  Hood. 
The  singing  stopped  all  at  once. 

"Quick,"  he  cried,  "the  Red  Runners — they're  going 
for  Pelham,  Hawkins.  I  thought  they  were  headed 
for  your  place.  But  I  was  mistaken.  Come  on,  they're 
out  full  strong  to-night — " 

Our  boys  seemed  to  jump  at  his  words.  It  seemed  so 
long  since  we  had  a  little  excitement  like  this.  "Wait, 
Perry,"  I  yelled,  as  I  saw  Perry  the  last  to  leave.  "Take 
this  gun  and  stay  here.  When  you  see  my  canoe  touch 
the  other  shore  fire  the  gun  just  once.  Then  wait  a 
minute  and  fire  again.  Just  to  frighten  those  fellows,  if 
they  can  be  frightened." 

I  sped  for  the  river.  The  last  canoe  was  pushing  off, 
Jerry  Moore  and  Bill  Darby  in  it.  I  leaped  in  it  lightly 
and  said:  "Paddle  fast."  It  did  not  take  us  long  to 
cross.  There  came  the  sound  of  shouts  and  running  feet 
on  the  Pelham  side.  The  moon  was  not  bright,  the  sky 
clouded,  but,  just  as  we  landed,  there  came  the  report 
of  Perry's  gun,  and  there  was  enough  moonlight  to  show 
us  a  line  of  four  or  five  shadowy  figures  running  this 
way,  while  another  four  or  five  ran  back  into  the  woods 
behind  the  shacks.  Our  boys  were  by  now  darting  into 
the  shacks,  and  the  Red  Runners  were  flying  before  them. 
Then  came  the  sound  of  Perry's  gun  once  more,  and 
the  Red  Runners  seemed  to  have  disappeared  entirely, 
just  as  I  thought  they  would.  They  did  not  know  who 
was  after  them.  They,  perhaps,  thought  it  was  our 
Sherriff. 

"Hawkins,"  whispered  Robby  Hood,  coming  round 
132 


133 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

to  where  I  stood,  "look — shall  we  catch  them  or  chase 
'em?" 

I  looked  into  the  Pelham  leader's  shack.  A  small 
oil  lamp  stood  on  a  barrel  in  the  center,  and  in  the  dim 
light  I  saw  a  fellow  lying  on  the  floor.  Then  I  saw  two 
other  figures — red-coated  boys — one  digging  into  a 
wooden  chest,  and  the  other  searching  in  an  old,  dilapi- 
dated safe  that  stood  under  a  window.  I  started  to  en- 
ter the  shack,  and,  as  my  footstep  sounded  upon  the 
threshold,  both  redcoats  turned — and  I  looked  into  the 
faces  of  Harkinson  and  Long  Tom.  For  a  moment  I 
feared — but  then  I  drew  my  gaze  away  and  turned  and 
yelled:  "Here  they  are  Sheriff.  They  can't  get  away. 
Stand  up  here  close  all  you  boys." 

The  trick  worked.  The  two  red-coats  thought  we 
had  all  our  boys  and  the  Sheriff  behind  us.  They  leaped 
for  the  first  window  and  tumbled  out.  Robby  was  for 
running  after  them,  but  I  held  him.  "Stay  here,'*  I 
said,  "if  you  know  what's  good  for  you." 

The  footsteps  of  those  fleeing  night  runners  died  out 
quickly,  and  they  were  gone.  I  went  inside  and  lifted 
Briggen.  Ham  Gardner  pushed  his  way  up  to  me.  "Is 
he  hurt  much?"  cried  Ham.  "Hawkins,  it  was  Harkin- 
son again — " 

"I  know,'*  I  said,  "but  they  didn't  hurt  your  pal. 
They  just  shoved  him  over." 

I  let  Ham  take  care  of  him,  and  our  boys  backed  out 
and  let  the  rest  of  the  Pelhams  come  in.  Suddenly 
Briggen  opened  his  eyes  and  asked:  "Are  they  gone, 
Ham?"  Then  I  saw  that  he  had  been  playing  possum 
all  the  time.  I  saw  something  else,  too,  and  it  made  me 
stop  still  for  a  second  and  look — 

Briggen's  right  hand  was  tied  up  with  a  bandage! 

"Come,"  I  said  to  our  boys,  "we  will  go  back."  So 
134 


THE    SILVER    CUP 

we  all  got  into  our  canoes  and  crossed  the  river  to  our 
side.  I  knew  that  the  Red  Runners  would  not  bother  the 
Pelhams  or  us  any  more  that  night.  I  tried  to  get  Robby 
to  stay  all  night  with  me,  but  he  would  not  do  it,  saying 
his  mother  would  worry  about  him.  So  we  waited  fifteen 
minutes,  and  then,  when  we  watched  his  motor  boat 
turn  the  upper  bend  of  the  river,  we  locked  our  club 
house  and  went  home. 

The  next  day  after  school  we  held  our  regular  meet- 
ing. Perry  Stokes  was  a  sort  of  watchman  these  days, 
as  I  had  told  him  to  keep  an  eye  on  Pelham.  And  he 
came  up  after  the  meeting  and  while  I  was  writing  the 
minutes,  and  said :  "A  Pelham  boat  is  starting  down  the 
river." 

"Who's  in  it?"  I  asked. 

"Briggen  and  one  other  fellow,"  he  answered. 

"All  right,  Perry,  come  along." 

We  slipped  down  to  the  river  and  our  canoe  shot 
out  of  the  willows  just  as  the  Pelham  canoe  was  dis- 
appearing around  the  lower  bend.  We  hadn't  gone  far 
until  we  caught  sight  of  them  again,  but  they  were  both 
facing  front  and  never  looked  around,  and  I  knew  they 
did  not  think  they  were  being  followed.  It  was  a  silent 
chase  to  Seven  Willows  Island,  where  they  landed,  and 
leaped  ashore.  We  followed  close  on  their  heels.  I  knew 
now  where  Briggen  was  going.  To  the  loghouse  in  the 
stockade  they  had  built  last  summer  under  Harkinson's 
orders.  Both  Pelhams  went  inside. 

I  hurried  up  to  the  door  of  the  loghouse,  Perry  at 
my  heels  with  the  gun. 

"Hello!"  I  hollered  out  loud. 

Both  Briggen  and  his  pal  turned — it  was  Booby 
Warren  who  was  with  him. 

"I  thought  so,"  I  said. 

135 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Hawkins!"  exclaimed  Briggen,  in  angry  surprise, 
"What  right  you  got  following — " 

"Shut  up!"  I  said.  "What's  that  you've  got  under 
your  coat — out  with  it.  Perry,  let  Briggen  look  into 
the  nose  of  that  noisemaker  you  have — ah,  I  thought  so, 
Briggen." 

Briggen  and  Bobby  had  both  thrown  up  their  hands 
when  they  saw  Perry  poke  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  inside 
the  door.  And  out  from  under  Briggen's  coat  there 
slipped  a  beautiful  shining  thing — as  lovely  a  thing  as 
I  ever  saw — the  silver  cup. 

We  forced  Briggen  and  Booby  Warren  to  tell  us  the 
whole  story.  Harold  and  I  had  been  mistaken.  It  was 
not  Harkinson  who  climbed  up  to  the  gunwale  of  the 
launch  on  the  night  of  Link's  farewell  party.  It  was 
nosey  Briggen — sneaking  around  as  Pelhams  always  do 
to  see  what's  going  on  over  on  our  side.  He  had  got  the 
crack  with  the  wooden  pin  on  his  hand  that  Harold  had 
intended  for  Harkinson.  I  don't  think  Harold  would 
have  hit  so  hard  if  he  had  known  it  was  only  a  Pelham 
fellow.  But  we  had  feared  Harkinson.  And  Booby 
Warren,  who  used  to  chum  with  the  Pelham  boys  when 
he  lived  down  our  way,  had  paid  Pelham  a  visit  and  had 
told  Briggen  of  the  beautiful  silver  cup  in  the  Happy 
Days  clubhouse — and  Briggen  wanted  it.  Booby  helped 
him.  They  carried  it  off  together,  but  the  Red  Runners 
must  have  seen  them  make  off  with  it.  For  I  can't  think 
what  other  thing  they  would  have  been  rummaging 
around  for  in  Briggen's  shack,  if  not  for  the  silver  cup. 
Briggen  guessed,  too,  that  the  Red  Runners  had  some- 
how discovered  that  he  had  the  cup;  that's  why  he  and 
Booby  took  it  down  to  the  loghouse  on  the  island  to 
hide  it  so  they  could  not  take  it  away  from  him.  But 

136 


THE    SILVER    CUP 

thanks  to  Perry  Stokes,  we  had  caught  them  at  it, 
and  everything  turned  out  all  right,  anyway.  I  felt 
sorry,  in  a  way,  for  Briggen  as  he  stood  there  before  us, 
his  right  hand  wound  around  with  a  dirty  bandage, 
and  I  felt  that  he  had  already  had  his  punishment;  he 
had  got  the  blows  intended  for  Harkinson,  and  so  I  told 
the  fellows  we  ought  to  let  him  off  this  time  with  a  good 
scolding.  We  gave  him  that,  hot  and  heavy,  and  I 
warned  him  that  if  we  ever  caught  him  at  such  things 
again — 

I  told  Booby  to  stay  away  from  this  part  of  the  river 
forever. 

"You  found  the  cup,  Perry,"  I  said.  "You  get  as 
much  credit  for  it  as  anyone.  There  might  be  a  reward. 
I  think  we  should  both  go  together  and  take  it  back  to 
Happy  Days." 

Which  we  did. 


187 


XIV 

Shadow  Loomis  Joins 

WHEN  we  came  down  to  our  clubhouse  after 
school  the  next  day  the  sight  that  met  our  eyes 
made  us  sore.  Somebody  had  visited  our  meet- 
ing place  during  the  night.  Somebody  had  turned  it  up- 
side down.  Somebody  had  given  us  a  sign  that  we  might 
expect  trouble,  and  we  knew  that  it  could  only  be  the 
Red  Runners,  whom  we  had  frightened  away  from 
Pelham  a  few  nights  ago. 

"Hawkins,"  said  our  Captain,  "this  is  awful.  What 
shall  we  do  about  it?" 

"What  can  we  do  now?"  I  asked.  "It's  too  late 
to  cry  about  spilled  milk,  Dick.  Come  on,  get  the  place 
straightened  up." 

All  of  us  boys  began  at  once  to  put  the  clubhouse 
in  order.  I  was  glad  to  find  that  none  of  the  drawers 
of  my  desk  had  been  opened.  Our  tin  money  box,  in 
which  we  kept  the  dues,  still  rested  in  its  place,  and  I 
opened  it  and  counted  the  dimes  to  make  sure  there  was 
none  stolen.  That  part  was  all  right. 

"We  will  have  to  set  a  watch  on  the  place,"  I  said; 
"it's  a  cinch  they  came  early  in  the  evening.  You'll  never 
find  a  Watertown  boy  this  far  down  the  river  after  nine 
o'clock  at  night.  None  of  us  were  down  here  at  all  last 
night.  We  all  went  home  right  after  our  meeting,  you 
remember." 

So  it  was  that  we  appointed  every  boy  in  the  club 
a  watchman;  each  was  to  take  his  turn  at  keeping  his 
eye  on  the  clubhouse  until  nine  o'clock  at  night.  Roy 
Dobel  drew  the  first  watch,  and  he  took  his  turn  gladly 

138 


SHADOW   LOOMIS    JOINS 

enough,  but  he  reported  everything  quiet  when  he  passed 
my  house  on  his  way  home,  and  I  felt  satisfied  that  the 
Red  Runners  would  not  repeat  their  shameful  ransack- 
ing. I  felt  in  a  way  that  they  had  only  wished  to  get 
even  for  the  scare  we  gave  them  the  night  we  made  them 
believe  the  Sheriff  was  upon  their  heels. 

The  next  day  while  we  were  holding  our  meeting, 
a  fellow  walked  into  our  clubhouse  with  a  suitcase  in  his 
hand.  All  the  boys  were  glad  to  see  him.  It  was  Shadow 
Loo  mis. 

"Hello,"  he  cried,  "holding  a  little  prayer  meeting 
or  something?  I  couldn't  pass  by  without  stopping  in." 

The  boys  ran  up  to  him  and  shook  his  hand,  and  took 
his  suitcase  and  pushed  a  chair  up  for  him. 

"Shadow,"  I  said,  "we  are  sure  glad  to  see  you. 
How  come?" 

"I'm  going  back  home  to  Watertown,"  he  said; 
"just  got  off  the  Kentucky  Belle  to  see  you  fellows. 
The  Hudson  Lee  will  be  along  to-night,  and  I'll  go  up 
the  rest  of  the  way  on  her." 

"Where's  your  friend,  young  Hudson  Lee?"  I  asked. 

"Gone  off  to  school  again,"  answered  Shadow  with  a 
sigh.  "I  always  spend  the  summer  down  there  with  him. 
Then,  when  his  daddy  ships  him  off  to  school,  I  got  to 
go  back  to  my  old  home  town.  Seems  kind  o'  lonesome 
without  him  for  a  while,  but  I  get  used  to  it  again,  and 
wait  for  another  summer-time." 

He  asked  about  the  Pelham  boys  then,  and  we  told 
him  of  our  adventure  over  on  the  Pelham  side  the  night 
the  Red  Runners  came. 

"Red  Runners!"  exclaimed  Shadow.  "Good-night! 
Hawkins,  have  you  got  those  boys  on  your  trail?" 

"What  do  you  know?"  I  asked.  "What  have  you 
found  out  about  the  Red  Runners?" 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Shadow  Loomis  laughed. 

"Everything,"  he  replied.  "If  they  knew  I  was 
returning  to  Watertown  to-night  they  would  be  at  the 
wharf  to  meet  me.  I've  spoiled  more  of  their  fun  than 
any  other  fellow  in  Watertown.  I  believe  there  wasn't  a 
boy  beside  me  who  would  know  where  to  find  the  hangout 
place  of  the  Red  Runners." 

He  told  us,  then,  of  his  fights  with  these  pals  of 
Harkinson  and  Long  Tom.  We  sat  and  listened  as 
though  he  were  telling  us  the  most  interesting  story 
we  ever  heard.  We  were  all  feeling  pretty  well  scared 
when  he  finished.  Here  was  another  one  of  our  friends 
who  had  already  met  the  Red  Runners. 

"But  they'll  not  do  much  damage,"  said  Bill  Darby. 
"They  try  to  bluff  most  always.  Something  like  our 
Pelham  fellows,  I  guess.  I  believe  every  town  has  a  gang 
of  boys  like  that,  Shadow.  The  Red  Runners  up  in 
Watertown  and  the  Pelhams  down  here." 

"Go  'way,"  said  Shadow,  "there's  no  bluff  about 
the  Red  Runners.  Why,  you  never  saw  a  bunch  of  fel- 
lows work  as  fast  and  as  slick.  They  finish  anything  they 
start  out  to  do.  And  nobody  can  stop  'em.  That's 
the  worst  thing.  You  can't  find  'em  if  you  look  for 
'em.  And  if  you  try  to  follow  'em  they  just  disappear. 
Once  or  twice  a  couple  of  'em  were  caught  and  punished. 
But  never  would  they  tell  on  any  of  the  others.  You 
couldn't  make  'em  talk.  They  know  that  if  they  gave 
the  others  away  they  would  catch  it  sooner  or  later." 

"Shadow,"  I  said,  "you'd  be  a  great  help  to  us.  Why 
can't  you  join  our  club?" 

"Now  you're  talking,"  said  Shadow  with  a  laugh, 
and  he  slapped  me  on  the  back.  "I've  been  waiting 
for  you  fellows  to  invite  me.  Now,  if  you  all  are  agree- 
able, why  I'm  with  you." 

140 


SHADOW   LOOMIS    JOINS 

The  way  the  boys  shouted  "Yes!  Sure!  Fine!"  I 
knew  it  was  no  use  to  take  a  vote  on  it.  Shadow  was 
one  of  us  from  that  time  on. 

"Only,"  he  said,  "I'll  not  be  able  to  be  around  here 
as  much  as  you  fellows.  You  see,  my  dad's  strong  on 
me  learning  my  trade.  I've  got  to  work  now.  I've  had 
a  long  vacation.  But  I'll  be  down  here  on  and  off,  as 
you  might  say.  That's  be  all  right,  won't  it?" 

"Sure,"  I  said,  "we've  got  another  fellow  who  comes 
only  sometimes — Robby  Hood.  He's  from  up  your  way. 
Do  you  know  him?" 

Shadow  shook  his  head.  "There's  a  lot  of  fellows 
in  Watertown  I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  "but  if  he's  your 
friend,  Hawkins,  he's  mine,  too." 

"He's  coming  down  here  to-night,"  I  said.     "I  wish 
you  could  meet  him." 

"I'll  be  here  till  about  8.45,  I  think,"  said  Shadow; 
"the  Hudson  Lee  is  a  fast  steamboat.  She'll  be  on  time, 
and  I  want  to  be  here  when  she  comes.  Captain  Lee 
told  me  he'd  not  wait  a  second,  and  if  I  wasn't  at  the 
wharf  he'd  go  without  me." 

"That'll  be  all  right,"  I  said,  laughing,  I'll  find  you  a 
place  to  sleep  if  you  miss  the  steamboat." 

"Ain't  goin'  to  miss  her,"  said  Shadow. 

With  that  Shadow  waved  his  hand  and  said  we  had 
enough  talk  about  Red  Runners  and  such,  and  he  opened 
his  suitcase  and  got  out  a  lot  of  odds  and  ends,  and  for 
an  hour  the  boys  were  watching  him  do  some  of  his 
magic  tricks,  which  kept  them  all  guessing.  No  matter 
how  they  begged  him  to  tell  them  how  it  was  done 
Shadow  always  put  the  trick  away  and  pulled  out  a  new 
one.  That  suitcase  seemed  to  be  full  of  nothing  but 
magic,  like  some  old  wonder  box  you  read  about  in  fairy 
tales.  .  .  . 

141 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Jerry  Moore  was  on  watch  at  the  clubhouse  that 
night.  Shadow  had  supper  at  my  house,  and  Perry 
Stokes  called  soon  after,  and  we  three  went  down  to  the 
clubhouse  together.  Perry  never  failed  to  show  up 
when  he  thought  I  wanted  him.  I  never  knew  a  boy 
who  was  always  as  willing  to  do  something  for  me  as 
Perry  Stokes  was.  And  he  seemed  to  enjoy  doing  it. 

I  had  left  the  key  with  Jerry,  and  I  was  surprised 
when  we  came  near  the  clubhouse  to  see  that  no  lights 
were  lit,  and  not  a  soul  around.  I  wondered  about  that, 
because  Jerry  was  always  on  the  job.  We  walked  softly 
up  the  porch,  and  when  I  tried  the  door  it  gave  way  and 
we  entered.  "Strange,"  I  said,  softly,  "door  open  and 
Jerry  not  here.  Where  in  the  world — " 

"S-sh,"  came  a  sound  from  the  rear  in  my  writing 
room.  "Come  here,"  whispered  Jerry.  There  he  was, 
sitting  in  the  dark,  by  the  open  window,  looking  out 
across  the  space  that  lay  between  our  clubhouse  and  the 
river.  "Don't  light  the  lamp,"  he  whispered. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Jerry.  "I  saw  someone — 
down  by  the  river  bank — just  a  while  ago — there  it  is 
again — " 

We  stood  behind  his  chair  and  bent  our  heads  to 
peer  out  into  the  dark.  There  was  no  moon,  but  it  was 
a  clear  night  and  the  stars  were  out  in  full  force,  and  we 
could  see  very  plainly  a  shadow  moving  in  the  trees 
that  lined  the  ridge  of  the  river  bank.  It  was  the  figure 
of  a  boy  darting  from  the  dark  shadow  of  one  tree  to 
another  farther  down  the  bank.  "He  must  have  been 
away  up  here  by  the  clubhouse,"  whispered  Jerry.  "I 
only  saw  him  first  as  he  darted  to  that  old  locust  tree." 

"Spy,"  said  Perry  Stokes.  "I'll  bet  he  wears  a  red 
sweater." 

142 


143 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Good-night,"  I  said,  "if  there  is  some  trap  to  catch 
Robby  to-night—" 

"Let  me  give  them  a  little  scare,"  said  Shadow 
Loomis.  Where's  my  suitcase?" 

He  went  over  to  the  table  and  dragged  out  from  under 
it  his  traveling  bag.  "I'll  guarantee  to  scare  any  Red 
Runner  from  here  to  Watertown,"  he  continued,  "if 
he  can  figure  out  whether  this  is  a  ghost  or  not — " 

"There  he  goes,"  spoke  up  Perry  Stokes.  "See — he 
disappeared  down  the  bank." 

Shadow  Loomis  brought  out  several  long  pieces  of 
soft,  hairy  twine,  and  a  wide-necked  bottle.  Silently 
we  watched  him  push  each  string  into  the  bottle  and 
soak  them  with  the  watery-looking  stuff  it  contained. 

"He's  back  again,"  announced  Perry  Stokes,  who 
still  peered  out  of  the  window.  "Hawkins,  he's  coming 
this  way,  sir." 

"Let  him  come,"  said  Shadow  Loomis,  "he'll  get 
his  money's  worth.  Now,  you  boys  watch.  I  don't 
think  you've  ever  seen  this  kind  of  a  snake  before." 

He  had  one  of  the  soaked  pieces  of  twine  rolled 
into  a  ball.  I  saw  him  snap  a  little  black  tip  at  the  end 
of  the  rope.  There  was  a  little  spark,  and  he  sailed  the 
thing  out  of  the  window  into  the  dark  toward  the  shad- 
ows under  the  trees.  For  a  moment  all  that  we  saw  was 
the  spark  lying  where  Shadow  Loomis  had  thrown 
the  rope.  Then,  suddenly  it  began  to  spread — that 
spark  seemed  to  stretch  out  into  a  long,  thin  line  of 
tiny  flames,  and  began  to  wriggle  just  like  a  snake. 
The  coming  figure  of  the  boy  on  the  bank  stopped  short 
for  an  instant  and  looked  at  the  strange  thing  that  lay 
before  him.  Then  that  fiery  snake  seemed  to  start 
for  that  shadowy  figure,  and  then  as  suddenly  died  out 

144 


SHADOW    LOOMIS    JOINS 

and  was  gone.    The  figure  on  the  bank  had  turned  and 
disappeared. 

"Got  his  goat,"  laughed  Shadow  Loomis,  under  his 
breath.  "Nobody  can  figure  it  out  the  first  time  they 
see  one." 

"Look!"  exclaimed  Perry  in  a  low  voice.  "Look! 
there  are  three  boys — no,  four,  five — another.  Oh, 
Hawkins!  the  Red  Runners  are  all  around." 

Sure  enough,  there  were  shadowy  forms  now  moving 
all  through  the  trees.  At  the  same  time  came  to  my 
ears  the  mufHed  sound  of  a  motor  boat  from  up  the 
river.  It  was  Robby  Hood.  I  knew  that  rat-tat-tat 
of  the  little  cheap  motor  he  had  fastened  to  his  skiff. 
And  he  had  said  he  would  be  here  sure  to-night. 

"Harkinson's  calling,"  whispered  Perry,  laying  his 
hand  on  my  arm. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  as  the  winding  notes  of  a  horn — the 
old  horn  that  used  to  belong  to  Stoner's  Boy — came  from 
the  river  bank.  "They  hear  Robby  coming — he's 
calling  all  the  boys  together.  They're  going  to  take 
Robby  prisoner.  Shadow,  if  you  want  to  help  us — " 

"Come  on,"  laughed  Shadow,  "we  can't  help  your 
friend  here — beat  it  for  the  river  as  fast  as  you  can.'* 

He  led  the  way  himself,  pushing  out  the  front  door  and 
down  the  path  to  the  left,  keeping  in  the  shadow  as  much 
as  he  could.  We  followed  at  his  heels.  As  we  went  we 
could  see  the  Red  Runners  coming  in  every  direction, 
from  where  they  had  been  stationed,  each  to  watch 
for  the  coming  of  Robby  Hood.  Now  they  ran  swiftly, 
silently  in  single  file,  down  to  the  point  where  the  sound 
of  Harkinson's  horn  came  from.  The  rat-tat-tat  of  the 
motor  boat  grew  louder,  and  a  light  showed  around  the 
bend — the  little  headlight  that  Robby  carried  on  his 

10  145 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

little  boat.  We  stopped  at  a  point  fifty  feet  from  where 
the  Red  Runners  gathered  on  the  bank.  They  stood  back 
in  the  shadow  as  the  little  boat  swung  into  our  little 
wharf  and  made  fast.  Then,  like  a  line  of  ghosts,  they 
moved  swiftly  to  the  river  and  leaped  silently  upon 
Robby  Hood  as  he  stood,  with  back  turned,  making 
fast  his  boat.  We  heard  one  little  cry  of  surprise  as 
Robby  felt  them  upon  him. 

Shadow  Loomis  sped  out  from  his  hiding  place 
and  I  heard  a  snap  as  he  scratched  his  fingernail  upon 
the  tip  of  one  of  those  mysterious  ropes  and  sailed  it 
out  toward  the  crowd  of  figures  on  the  little  wharf.  He 
made  a  hissing  noise  through  his  teeth  and  raised  his 
arm  again  and  sailed  another,  and  then  another,  the 
last  one  landing  behind  the  Red  Runners  just  as  the 
first  one  began  to  glow  in  its  full  length  and  start  wrig- 
gling toward  the  wharf.  They  had  turned  and  were  look- 
ing toward  us,  surprised  at  that  hissing  sound  that 
Shadow  continued  to  make  through  his  teeth — then 
their  eyes  lit  upon  the  long,  wriggling  things  that  slowly 
moved  toward  them — by  now  they  had  all  begun  to  grow 
into  blue  flame — like  long,  ugly  glow  worms  they  wrig- 
gled their  crooked  lengths  toward  the  wharf — 

It  wasn't  Harkinson  who  cried  out  in  fright — I'd 
known  his  voice — but  it  was  one  of  the  Red  Runners 
who  first  showed  a  yellow  streak — and  then  it  seemed 
as  if  they  could  not  get  away  fast  enough.  How  they 
dashed,  one  into  another,  for  the  nearest  way  to  escape 
those  wriggling  things! 

It  was  the  sound  of  the  horn  again  that  got  them 
in  order,  and  they  pulled  into  line  again  and  ran  like 
the  wind  in  single  file  up  the  river  bank,  disappearing 
into  the  shadows  under  the  trees  that  line  the  stream. 
Shadow  Loomis  was  laughing  until  tears  were  in  his 

146 


SHADOW    LOOMIS    JOINS 

eyes,  for  Robby  Hood,  too,  was  scared  to  death,  and  was 
down  in  his  boat  again,  starting  the  motor,  ready  to  get 
away  from  this  place  as  quick  as  he  could. 

"Robby,"  I  cried,  "it's  me,  Hawkins — come  back." 

The  sound  of  his  motor  stopped  and  he  leaped  upon 
the  wharf  again  to  meet  us. 

"Gee  wiz,"  he  said,  "I  didn't  know  what  was  coming 
off  here,  I  ought  to  have  known  that  I  couldn't  have 
slipped  away  from  the  Red  Runners,  but  I  felt  like  I 
was  safe  when  I  didn't  see  a  single  one  of  'em  at  Water- 
town.  I  was  all  excited  and  then  come  those  snaky- 
looking  blue  things — Great  Scott,  where  did  they  go?" 

"Burnt  out,"  I  said.  "Here  is  the  magician  who 
turned  the  trick." 

I  introduced  Shadow  Loomis. 

"You  saved  me  from  a  good  licking,"  said  Robby, 
as  they  shook  hands.  "They've  been  laying  for  me  for 
weeks.  You  don't  know  these  Red  Runners." 

"Don't  I?"  said  Shadow,  with  a  laugh.  He  told, 
then,  adventures  with  this  strange  bunch  of  boys, 
and  it  was  a  pleasant  half  hour  we  spent  there  on  the 
river  bank. 

"Here  comes  a  steamboat,"  said  Perry  Stokes. 

"It's  the  Hudson  Lee"  said  Shadow,  "bound  for 
Watertown.  You'd  better  not  try  to  go  back  in  that 
motor  boat  of  yours,  Robby.  We'll  both  go  back  on 
the  steamboat.  Captain  Lee  will  be  glad  to  take  us." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Robby.  "They'll 
wait  to  see  my  motor  come  back.  They'll  never  think 
for  a  minute  that  I'm  on  the  steamer." 

The  beautiful  old  steamboat  pulled  for  our  shore  and 
landed  just  about  the  time  Perry  Stokes  came  back  from 
the  clubhouse  with  Shadow's  suitcase.  The  two  boys 
promised  to  come  back  soon  and  leaped  upon  the  gang- 

147 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

plank  the  minute  it  touched  our  wharf.  We  watched 
the  steamer  sail  up  the  stream,  and  then  Jerry  Moore 
said: 

"Well,  my  turn  of  watching  is  over  for  a  while.  It's 
been  a  wild  night.  Believe  me,  I'll  dream  of  snakes  all 
night.  Let's  lock  up  our  clubhouse  and  hurry  home." 

Which  we  did. 


148 


XV 

The  Call  of  a  Night  Bird 

JERRY  MOORE  always  had  a  liking  for  a  camp- 
fire.  He  never  stayed  in  our  clubhouse  longer 
than  he  had  to.  Just  as  soon  as  the  meeting  was 
over  he  would  be  out  and  gone.  Now  the  days  were 
growing  shorter.  October  days  brought  chilly  weather, 
and  I  was  not  surprised  to  find,  when  I  came  down  to  the 
clubhouse  after  school,  a  thin  ribbon  of  smoke  coming 
up  from  behind  the  bushes  on  the  river  bank.  It  was  a 
campfire,  and  around  it  sat  all  the  boys  listening  to  some 
story  that  Jerry  was  telling. 

"Looks  like  old  times,  fellas,"  I  said,  walking  up 
and  spreading  my  hands  over  the  fire;  "I  thought  Jerry 
would  have  a  fire  going  before  long." 

"I've  just  been  telling  the  boys,  Hawkins,"  said 
Jerry,  "that  the  Red  Runners  have  a  spy  down  here. 
I  saw  him  myself  when  I  came  down  after  school.  I 
was  the  first  one  down  here." 

"It  wouldn't  surprise  me,  Jerry,"  I  said;  "but  are 
you  sure  it  was  a  Red  Runner?" 

"He  wore  a  red  sweater,  Hawkins,"  replied  Jerry. 
"But  he  was  a  stranger  to  me.  Never  saw  him  before 
in  my  life." 

"No,  I  guess  not,"  I  said,  "if  they  do  send  a  scout 
down  here,  most  likely  they  send  one  we  don't  know. 
To  tell  the  truth,  we  only  know  Harkinson  and  Long 
Tom." 

"Well,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  catch  him,*'  said  Jerry. 
"We've  just  got  to  make  those  red  coats  know  that  they 

149 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

can't  be  sneaking  around  our  clubhouse  whenever  they 
please." 

"Meeting!"  called  Dick  Ferris  from  the  clubhouse. 
And  so  we  all  went  up  and  took  our  places  around  the 
table  and  had  our  regular  meeting.  It  was  Monday,  and 
the  Monday  meeting  is  the  most  important  one  in  our 
club.  No  matter  how  many  meetings  on  any  other  day 
a  fellow  misses,  he's  bound  to  be  present  at  the  roll  call 
on  Monday.  For  that  is  the  day  when  the  dues  are  paid, 
and  a  fellow  who  does  not  pay  his  dime  regularly  is 
likely  to  find  himself  out  of  the  club. 

We  talked  about  the  appearance  of  the  spy  that  Jerry 
had  seen.  And  our  Captain,  Dick  Ferris,  appointed 
groups  of  two  and  three  boys  each  to  search  together  in 
different  parts  of  the  woods  as  soon  as  the  meeting  was 
over.  But  nothing  came  of  it  that  day.  Each  little 
searching  party  came  back  before  dark  to  report  that 
not  a  trace  could  be  found  of  the  solitary  Red  Runner. 
He  had  gone,  most  likely,  before  we  set  out  in  search 
of  him. 

The  next  day,  while  I  was  writing  in  my  little  office 
in  the  clubhouse,  Doc  Waters  came  in.  I  was  glad  to  see 
him,  for  it  had  been  a  long  time  since  he  had  been  to  see 
us. 

"Hawkins,"  he  said  after  a  while,  "you  boys  won't 
be  getting  into  any  more  trouble  like  you  had  with 
Stoner's  Boy,  will  you?" 

"I  hope  not,  Doc,"  I  replied.  "We  wouldn't  like  to, 
anyway." 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  know  you  have  been  fighting  with 
that  boy  from  Watertown,  what's  his  name — '' 

"Harkinson." 

"Yes,  the  bully  that  gave  us  trouble  at  our  summer 
camp  on  the  island.  Now,  he's  a  tough  youngster, 

150 


THE    CALL   OF   A    NIGHT    BIRD 

Hawkins,  and  he  runs  with  a  bad  lot  of  urchins — " 

"The  Red  Runners." 

"Yes,  I've  heard  of  'em,"  continued  Doc.  "It  came 
to  me  from  somebody  in  Watertown,  who  told  me  about 
your  discovery  of  the  lost  silver  cup.  That  was  a  fine 
thing,  Hawkins,  your  finding  out  who  stole  it  and  getting 
it  back.  But,  when  I  was  told,  I  heard  also  about  your 
run-in  with  this  red  runnin'  bunch  from  Watertown.  I 
just  want  to  warn  you.  If  you  boys  ever  get  into  trouble 
like  that  again,  Judge  Granbery  will  use  his  influence  to 
have  your  dad  send  you  away  to  a  very  strict  school 
somewhere." 

"I'll  be  very  careful,  Doc,"  I  said;  "I  don't  want 
our  little  club  broken  up.  We  have  better  times  down 
here  on  the  river  bank  than  any  fellows  could  have  any- 
where else.  We  will  steer  clear  of  trouble.  But,  of  course, 
if  anybody  starts  fighting  us,  we  have  to  fight  back. 
You  wouldn't  think  much  of  a  fellow  who  didn't  fight 
back,  would  you?" 

"No,  that's  all  right,"  said  Doc;  "but  sometimes 
they're  too  much  for  you.  All  I  ask,  Hawkins,  is  that 
you  call  upon  me  and  the  Sheriff  when  you  need  us. 
Don't  take  a  chance." 

"Leave  it  to  me,  Doc.  When  the  time  comes  that 
we  can't  take  care  of  ourselves  you  can  bet  your  money 
that  we  will  yell  for  the  Sheriff  mighty  quick." 

"And  me,"  said  Doc. 

"And  you,"  I  assured  him. 

But  I  was  hoping  that  we  wouldn't  have  to  do  that. 
As  Doc  walked  up  the  river  bank  I  watched  him  through 
my  window  and  I  thought  to  myself  that  there  never 
was  a  man  who  cared  for  a  bunch  of  neighborhood  boys 
as  much  as  Doc  cared  for  us.  He  sure  was  a  prince. 

That  evening  Lew  Hunter  held  a  singing  practice  in 
151 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

the  clubhouse,  and  Dick  Ferris  gave  orders  that  all  of 
the  boys  must  come.  The  preacher  had  asked  us  to  sing 
again  in  his  choir  on  Sundays,  and  we  liked  to  help  the 
preacher  out.  He  was  a  fine  man,  and  all  of  us  boys 
liked  him.  So  they  all  promised  to  come.  I  got  there 
a  little  ahead  of  the  others,  and  sat  down  at  my  desk 
in  the  rear  room  and  finished  up  the  writing  I  had  started 
when  Doc  Waters  interrupted  me  that  afternoon.  It 
was  very  quiet.  The  air  in  the  room  seemed  a  little  stuffy, 
so  I  opened  my  window  and  turned  back  to  my  writing. 
There  came  to  me,  after  a  little  while,  the  chilly  notes 
of  a  screech  owl  somewhere  in  the  tree  that  hung  over 
the  back  window.  It  bothered  me.  I  had  heard  that 
mournful  sound  every  night  that  I  had  come  down  to  the 
clubhouse.  And  I  did  not  like  owls.  It  was  the  only 
bird  I  was  ever  afraid  of  around  our  river  bank.  As  I 
listened  to  it  again  I  suddenly  thought  to  myself:  What 
if  that  is  not  a  real  owl?  Supposing  it  is  the  secret  signal 
of  the  Red  Runners  calling  one  another.  I  felt  a  chill 
go  up  my  back.  My  skin  began  to  feel  like  gooseflesh. 

But  then  came  a  relief  when  I  heard  footsteps  on  the 
porch,  and  I  thought  at  last  that  some  of  my  boys  were 
arriving  for  the  singing  practice.  I  threw  down  my  pen 
and  pushed  through  the  curtains  into  the  clubroom — 
and  there  I  stood  stock  still,  and  another  chill  shot  up 
my  spine. 

Standing  there,  in  the  wide-open  door,  were  two  Red 
Runners — they  wore  long  coats  and  hats  pulled  down 
over  their  eyes,  but  I  could  see  through  the  open  coats 
the  red  sweaters  worn  underneath.  They  made  no  move, 
but  stood  there  with  their  arms  akimbo,  looking  at  me. 

"Been  a  long  time  since  we  met,  Hawkins?" 

It  was  Harkinson.  Those  hypnotizing  eyes  that  had 
held  me  spellbound  several  times  before  peered  out  at 

152 


15S 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

me  from  under  the  dark  rim  of  his  wide  hat.  He  gave  a 
short  laugh  and  dropped  his  arms,  and  they  hung  al- 
most to  his  knees.  He  was,  indeed,  a  figure  that  would 
frighten  a  fellow.  I  could  not  speak. 

"You  don't  remember  my  pardner,  here,"  continued 
Harkinson,  waving  an  arm  toward  his  companion.  "Well, 
he  remembers  you,  don't  you,  Long  Tom?" 

I  bent  my  head  forward  at  his  words  and  gazed  under 
the  brim  of  the  other  hat.  Yes,  it  was  Long  Tom.  The 
same  Long  Tom  who  came  in  the  old  days  with  Stoner's 
Boy.  The  same  Long  Tom  whom  I  had  outwitted  many 
times.  He  shoved  his  hat  back  upon  his  head  and  said: 

"Take  a  good  look,  Hawkins,  and  you'll  know  me. 
It's  been  a  long  time,  but  that's  my  middle  name. 
Long  Tom — yeah,  I  waits  a  long  time,  but  I  gets  what 
I  go  after.  You  and  me  got  a  few  things  to  settle, 
ain't  we,  Hawkins?  How'd  you  like  to  take  a  trip  with 
us?  You  might  as  well  like  it,  cause  we  came  to  fetch 
you  to  a  party  that  we  hatched  up  just  for  you — ain't 
nobody  else  but  you  gonna  be  honored  in  it — and  the  Red 
Runners  will  do  the  entertaining." 

"Where  do  you  want  to  take  me?"  I  asked.  I  thought 
I  had  better  play  for  time. 

"We  borrowed  a  boat  with  a  motor  in  it,"  said  Har- 
kinson, "from  your  friend,  Hood.  It's  waiting  for  you 
now.  Put  on  your  hat  and  hurry." 

While  I  listened,  hardly  hearing  what  they  said,  I 
was  trying  to  figure  out  a  way  to  get  out  of  this.  If  these 
two  ruffians  got  me  up  to  their  hangout  place  in  Water- 
town  to-night  I  knew  the  least  I  could  get  away  with 
would  be  a  black  eye  and  a  bloody  nose,  and  maybe 
have  to  walk  all  the  way  back.  I  felt  myself  sweating, 
yet  I  did  not  feel  warm. 

"Hurry,"  snapped  Long  Tom. 
154 


THE    CALL    OF   A    NIGHT    BIRD 

And,  then,  glory  be  to  goodness,  came  the  sound  of 
laughter  and  my  boy's  voices;  they  were  coming  down 
the  path.  My  two  callers  heard  it  at  the  same  instant. 
Harkinson  made  a  dash  for  me,  but  Long  Tom  hissed 
and  jerked  his  arm. 

"It's  up,"  he  whispered;  "it's  too  late;  they're  all 
coming;  let's  beat  it  before  they  turn  the  tables  on  us." 
And,  casting  a  mean  look  toward  me,  he  snarled :  "We've 
got  plenty  of  time;  we'll  get  you  later." 

"Not  if  I  know  it,"  I  yelled  as  loud  as  I  could,  for 
my  nerves  were  strained  and  I  felt  glad  that  my  boys  were 
coming  back.  Harkinson  had  dropped  his  hat,  but  he 
did  not  stop  to  pick  it  up.  They  slipped  out  into  the 
dark  and  slammed  the  door  after  them.  I  picked  up  the 
oil  lamp,  rushed  out  onto  the  porch.  They  had  dis- 
appeared in  the  dark  under  the  trees.  Coming  around 
the  corner  of  the  clubhouse  were  my  own  boys,  joking 
and  cutting  up  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  made  up 
my  mind  not  to  say  anything  to  them,  so  that  the  sing- 
ing practice  would  not  be  spoiled  by  worries  of  this  kind. 

"Thanks  for  the  light,  Hawkins,"  said  Lew,  laughing; 
"you  must  have  thought  we  would  stub  our  toe  or  some- 
thing." 

"It's  pretty  dark  out  there,"  I  said.  "I  think  we 
ought  to  have  a  light  by  the  steps." 

They  came  trooping  in.  They  were  getting  the  music 
sheets  and  songbooks  ready  while  I  walked  back  to  my 
desk  and  put  my  book  and  things  away.  Through  the 
window  came  the  gloomy  call  of  the  screech  owl  in  the 
tree.  I  hurried  back  to  take  my  place  by  the  organ. 
Lew  struck  up  the  first  chord  and  the  sound  of  the  music 
drove  away  my  fear.  I  was  with  my  boys  again. 
Nothing  could  hurt  me  now. 


155 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

We  sang  for  almost  an  hour.  At  the  end  we  sat  down 
at  the  table  while  Lew  was  putting  away  the  music  and 
books. 

"Listen,"  spoke  up  Jerry  Moore.  "That's  a  sign. 
Every  time  you  hear  that  owl  in  the  back  tree  there, 
you  know  the  Red  Runners  are  near." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "what  have  you  learned,  then,  Jerry?" 

The  other  boys  seemed  to  be  frightened.  They 
looked  with  serious  faces  at  Jerry. 

"The  same  old  call.  Stoner  used  to  use  it.  Listen! 
Hear  it?  Old  flathead  night  bird." 

"Hello,  who  does  this  belong  to?"  exclaimed  Bill 
Darby.  He  had  pulled  out  of  the  dark  corner  behind 
the  organ  the  wide-brim  hat  that  Harkinson  had 
dropped  in  his  flight.  "Some  hat,  ain't  it?  How  do 
I  look,  fellas?" 

He  put  the  wide  hat  upon  his  head.  The  drooping 
brim  flapped  over  his  ears.  The  boys  laughed  as  Bill 
walked  around.  Then,  just  as  he  approached  the  win- 
dow, a  funny  thing  happened.  There  came  the  sound 
of  fluttering,  a  flapping  of  ghostly  wings,  and  Jerry  gave 
a  cry  of  fright  as  through  the  window  came  a  shape — 
an  evil-looking  thing  it  seemed  in  the  dull  glow  of  our 
lamp — and  it  settled  down  upon  the  hat  on  Bill  Darby's 
head.  It  was  a  small  speckled  owl !  Bill  hardly  had  time 
to  see  it,  but  he  knew  something  was  wrong,  and  he 
screamed  and  dropped  to  his  knees.  I  saw  Jerry  Moore 
leap  forward  and  make  a  swing  at  the  ugly  creature, 
but  just  then  came  through  the  window  another  sound 
— the  sound  of  the  old  brass  horn  that  Harkinson  car- 
ried— and  flappety-flap-flap  out  again  into  the  night 
sailed  the  unwelcome  bird. 

"The  horn — "  shouted  Jerry.  "It's  Harkinson  and 
the  Red  Runners!" 

156 


THE    CALL   OF    A    NIGHT    BIRD 

I  couldn't  have  stopped  him  if  I  wanted  to.  Bill 
Darby  ran  after  him,  and  the  other  boys,  recovering  their 
courage,  and  anxious  to  see  what  might  be  going  on,  shot 
out  of  the  clubhouse  behind  them.  I  followed  after  lock- 
ing the  door.  I  feared  a  trick. 

Once  more  came  the  sound  of  the  horn  as  we  ran. 
I  knew  it  was  Harkrnson  calling  in  the  other  Red  Run- 
ners who  had  been  stationed  in  other  places. 

"There  they  are,"  whispered  Jerry,  as  I  came  up  to 
where  he  and  the  other  boys  had  halted.  We  looked 
down,  and  on  the  bank  we  saw  two  figures  waiting  be- 
side a  boat,  the  motor  already  running.  "Look!"  whis- 
pered Jerry.  "Look!  Harkinson's  shoulder — " 

Against  the  moonlight  was  the  dark  figure  of  Har- 
kinson,  and  upon  his  shoulder  rested  a  queer  little  shape 
— I  looked  twice  before  I  saw  it  was  the  owl. 

"Oh,  Lord,"  whispered  Bill  Darby,  "it's  his  owl- 
it's  Harkinson's — and  it  took  me  for  him — " 

There  must  have  been  only  four  Red  Runners,  for, 
as  two  others  came  running  up,  they  hurried  quickly, 
took  their  places  in  the  boat,  and  Harkinson  followed, 
while  Long  Tom  shoved  her  off  and  leaped  in  as  the 
motor  carried  her  out  into  the  stream.  Long  after  the 
darkness  swallowed  them  we  could  hear  the  rat-tat-tat 
of  the  engine. 

"I  might  a'known  that  nightbird  belonged  to  him," 
said  Jerry  Moore. 

"And  it  mistook  me  for  him,"  repeated  Bill  Darby. 

"Sure,"  I  said,  "you  had  on  his  hat." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Jerry.  "Was  he  in  the  clubhouse?" 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "don't  get  excited;  it  was  only  me 
they  were  after."  And  I  told  them  of  the  visit  of  Long 
Tom  and  Harkinson  while  I  was  alone  in  the  clubhouse. 
Bill  Darby  kept  brushing  his  hair,  as  if  he  couldn't 

157 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

forget  that  the  horrid  bird  of  Harkinson's  had  once 
roosted  there.  "To  think  of  him  having  such  a  pet," 
said  Jerry.  "No  wonder,  though;  I  knowed  he  was  some 
kin  to  such  nightbirds.  Whenever  you  hear  an  owl 
you  can  bet  Harkinson  ain't  far  off." 

"You're  right,"  I  said. 

"Have  you  locked  the  clubhouse,  Hawkins?"  asked 
Dick  Ferris. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  we  better  go  up  and  close  that  window," 
said  Bill  Darby. 

Which  we  did. 


158 


XVI 

A  Pair  of  Owls 

IT  WAS  cold  as  the  dickens  when  we  came  down  to 
the  river  bank  after  school.  All  of  us  boys  hugged 
the  camp  fire  Jerry  Moore  had  burning  on  the 
river  bank.  Across  the  river  the  Pelham  boys  had  a  fire 
burning,  too.  They  always  do  everything  we  do.  I 
wondered,  as  I  watched  them,  why  they  had  been  so 
quiet  lately.  They  haven't  been  over  on  our  bank  for 
weeks.  Whenever  they  stay  quiet  like  that  for  a  long 
time  I  always  begin  to  expect  trouble  from  them.  Now, 
I  thought  they  were  hatching  something  new  for  us; 
soon  we  would  find  out  what  they  were  up  to. 

Bill  Darby  had  not  been  at  school  all  day  because 
he  was  sick.  I  was  surprised  when  I  found  him  sitting 
among  the  boys  at  the  camp  fire. 

"Bill,"  I  said,  "if  you're  sick  enough  to  stay  home 
from  school  you  ought  to  stay  in  the  house.  It  might 
be  bad  for  you  to  be  down  here  on  the  river  bank." 

"I  dunno,"  said  Bill,  "seems  like  school  is  the  worst 
place  for  a  fella  when  he's  sick.  Seems  like  a  place  out 
here  on  the  river  bank  does  a  fella  lots  of  good  when  he's 
sick." 

The  roll  call  was  answered  by  all  but  Roy  Dobel. 
We  talked  about  the  last  visit  of  Harkinson  and  the  Red 
Runners,  and  Dick  said  we  would  have  to  keep  a  watch 
at  the  clubhouse.  It  was  Bill  Darby's  turn,  but  he  being 
sick,  Perry  Stokes  offered  to  take  his  place,  so  Bill  could 
go  home  early  and  take  care  of  his  cold. 

159 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Then  the  boys  all  stepped  up  to  pay  their  dues. 
While  I  was  marking  it  in  the  book  Roy  Dobel  came  in. 

"Look,  fellas,"  he  said,  "ain't  he  a  fine  fella?  Har- 
kinson  ain't  got  nothin'  on  us." 

All  the  boys  looked  surprised.  Bill  Darby  yelled  and 
put  his  hands  on  top  of  his  head  and  held  his  cap  on 
tight.  Roy  Dobel  carried  a  parrot's  cage,  and  in  it  was 
a  big,  brown  owl. 

"For  the  love  of  Mike!"  exclaimed  Jerry  Moore, 
"what  did  you  go  and  do?  Steal  Harkinson's  pet?" 

"Dry  up,"  said  Roy;  "can't  you  see  this  is  a  wild  one? 
I  trapped  him  in  my  pop's  barn.  Look  at  his  eyes.  Har- 
kinson's owl  never  had  eyes  as  big  as  that." 

We  all  crowded  around  Roy  and  looked  at  the  stiff- 
looking  bird  he  had  in  the  cage.  It  was  larger  than  the 
owl  Harkinson  had.  The  feathers  on  its  head  stuck 
up  like  two  little  ears. 

"Let  it  go,"  cried  Bill  Darby;  "set  it  free,  Roy." 

Bill  hadn't  forgotten  the  night  Harkinson's  pet  owl 
sailed  through  the  window  and  lit  upon  his  head. 

"Nix,"  said  Roy,  "this  bird  is  gon'a  be  our  mascot. 
Tell  you  what,  fellas,  an  owl  is  good  luck.  It  gives  a  fella 
a  lot  of  power — don't  you  know  how  Harkinson  can 
hypnotize  with  his  eyes?  Where'd  you  suppose  he  got 
that  power  from — from  his  brain?  No,  sir,  he  ain't  got 
brains  enough  to  keep  him  on  the  ground.  It's  his  owl 
that  does  it.  It's  like  a  charm.  Don't  you  always  see 
fortune  tellers  and  such  have  owls  on  their  shoulders? 
Sure  you  do;  they  are  magic.  If  we  keep  this  old  fella 
in  our  clubhouse,  Harkinson  won't  be  able  to  do  any- 
thing to  us,  nor  anybody  else.  You  do  it  and  see." 

No  use  denying,  Roy's  words  had  a  lot  to  do  toward 
making  the  fellows  like  the  bird,  and  the  end  of  it  was  that 
the  cage  was  set  upon  the  cupboard,  from  which  high 

160 


A    PAIR    OF    OWLS 

place  the  two  glassy  eyes  looked  down  upon  us  with  an 
empty  stare.  But,  remembering  our  recent  scare  with 
Harkinson's  pet  night  bird,  I  did  not  like  to  have  this  one 
around.  I  should  have  taken  a  better  look  at  Roy's  bird, 
I  guess,  but  I  did  not.  I  just  saw  that  it  was  almost 
twice  the  size  of  Harkinson's  speckled  pet,  and  then  I 
paid  no  more  attention  to  it. 

The  next  day  we  learned  that  Bill  Darby  was  really 
a  very  sick  boy.  Doc  Waters  came  down  to  the  house- 
boat and  scolded  us  for  letting  Bill  come  down  when  we 
knew  he  was  sick.  I  tried  to  make  excuses,  but  Doc  was 
very  angry,  and  said  that  it  was  our  duty  to  chase  a 
fellow  home  when  we  knew  he  was  sick  enough  to  stay 
home  from  school.  We  promised  on  our  honor  that  we 
would  do  so  forever  after.  We  all  went  up  to  see  him, 
but  he  was  very  cross.  Bill  is  that  way.  When  he  gets 
sick  he's  very  cranky,  and  he  told  his  mother  to  order 
us  to  go  right  back  where  we  came  from.  Which  we  did. 

Roy  Dobel  was  on  watch  that  night.  The  other  fel- 
lows went  to  the  movies,  but  I  said  I  didn't  care  to  go, 
and  Lew  Hunter  went  down  with  me  to  the  clubhouse. 
Roy  was  sitting  on  the  steps  and  jumped  up  when  he 
saw  us  coming. 

"How's  everything,  Roy?"  I  asked. 

"All's  quiet,"  answered  Roy. 

"Haven't  heard  a  sound?"  I  asked. 

"Only  the  owl  in  the  clubhouse.  He  hoots.  That's 
the  sign  he's  a  good  owl.  You  never  heard  Harkinson's 
owl  hoot,  did  you?  No,  he  sort  o'  screeches.  Owls's 
no  good  lest  they  hoots.  Ours  is  a  fine  one." 

I  had  to  laugh,  and  Lew  did,  too. 
"All  right,  Roy,  keep  your  eye  open." 

Lew  and  I  went  inside.  I  went  to  work  writing,  and 
Lew  got  some  of  his  music  sheets  out  and  practiced  on  the 

II  161 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

organ.  It  sounded  fine  to  me  as  I  sat  in  my  little  office 
in  the  back  and  heard  the  strains  of  "Home,  Sweet 
Home"  come  drifting  through  the  curtain.  But  sud- 
denly came  the  hoot  of  the  owl  in  the  cage  on  the  cup- 
board. 

"Did  you  hear  him,  Hawkins?"  called  Lew. 

"Yeah,  keep  on  playing,"  I  answered,  "so  I  can't 
hear  him.  Dern  if  I  like  owls,  even  if  Roy  does  think 
they're  good  luck." 

Lew  laughed  and  kept  on  playing. 

After  a  while  I  heard  voices  outside.  Roy  was  talk- 
ing with  somebody.  I  hurried  through  my  curtain  door- 
way, but  just  then  the  door  opened  and  in  came  Roy  and 
Briggen,  followed  by  two  other  Pelhams — Ham  Gardner 
and  Dave  Burns. 

"He's  here,"  whispered  Roy  to  me. 

"So  I  see,"  said  I.     "Briggen  and  his — ' 

"No,  no — "  broke  in  Roy,  "Harkinson — Briggen  just 
come  to  tell  us — his  launch  is  landed  down  on  the  bank 
near  the  mouth  of  Cave  River.  They  rowed  down,  so 
the  motor  wouldn't  make  any  noise." 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  I  saw  that  Briggen  carried 
something — something  that  stood  up  from  his  arm,  but 
was  covered  with  a  gray  cloth.  Gray — how  that  color 
reminded  me  of  Stoner's  Boy!' 

"What's  that?"  I  demanded,  pointing  my  finger. 

In  a  moment  Briggen  whipped  off  the  cloth — Har- 
kinson's  little  speckled  owl  sat  perched  upon  his  wrist. 
I  drew  back — I  hated  the  thing. 

"Where — '  I  began,  "where — what's  this  mean, 
Briggen?" 

Briggen  grinned. 

"We  followed  their  boat,"  he  said,  "and  they  landed 
and  tied  her,  and  snuck  off  in  the  dark.  This  was  sittiag 

162 


A    PAIR    OF    OWLS 

on  the  steering  wheel,  but  it  was  covered  with  the  cloth. 
When  we  looked  in  under  we  saw  it  was  the  bird.  So 
we  just  snatched  it  and  brought  it  up  to  you.  It's  tame. 
See,  it  won't  fly.  It'll  sit  here  as  long  as  you  want  it  to. 
We  thought  it  would  be  a  pal  for  your  other  bird  up 
there." 

He  pointed  to  Roy's  caged  bird  upon  the  cupboard. 

"How  did  you  know  we  had  one,  Briggen?"  I  de- 
manded sharply. 

He  shifted  his  eyes  from  me  to  Roy,  and  from  Roy 
to  Lew,  and  back  to  me. 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "you  guys  been  spying  around  here  while 
we  were  gone.  I  see.  Just  let  me  tell  you,  Briggen, 
I  don't  want  any  of  you  boys  sneaking  around  here.  Stay 
on  your  own  side  of  the  river  and  we'll  stay  on  ours. 
What  do  you  mean  by  bringing  that  stolen  bird  up  here? 
You  want  Harkinson  to  think  we  swiped  it?  I  know  you. 
It  would  suit  you  fine  if  Harkinson  would  have  something 
on  us — " 

"Aw,  shut  up,"  yelled  Briggen,  and  he  shook  his 
wrist  free;  the  speckled  owl  came  flappety-flap  for  my 
head.  Lew  Hunter  yelled.  I  ducked.  The  Pelhams  had 
turned  and  were  gone.  We  heard  their  footsteps  on  the 
path  outside. 

"Hot  time!"  exclaimed  Roy.  "Shall  we  take  out 
after  'em,  Hawkins?" 

"No,"  I  said,  "get  rid  of  this  bird  of  Harkinson's. 
He'll  miss  it.  And  the  whole  Red  Running  bunch  will 
be  up  here  after  it.  Hurry." 

We  spent  ten  minutes  chasing  the  measly  thing.  I 
hated  to  touch  it,  but  I  would  be  willing  to  do  anything 
to  keep  Harkinson  from  thinking  that  we  stole  his  pet. 
We  had  enough  trouble  already.  But  at  last  we  realized 
that  it  was  a  hard  thing  to  catch  when  it  knew  we  were 

163 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

trying  to  catch  it.  We  sat  down  at  last  and  looked  at  it. 
It  perched  on  top  of  the  cage  where  the  big-eared  owl 
sat  staring.  The  big  one  moved  its  head  just  a  trifle  and 
uttered  a  gloomy  "Hoot."  The  little  one  said:  "Squee- 
wee-wee." 

"Out  with  the  lights,"  I  said,  jumping  up.  "Hurry, 
Lew.  I'll  bet  it  won't  be  long  before  he  misses  the 
bird." 

"What'll  we  do  about  the  dern  thing?"  asked  Roy. 

"Let  it  alone,"  I  said.  "If  it  flies  out,  so  much  the 
better.  And  to-morrow  you  get  rid  of  yours,  too,  Roy. 
Come  on." 

I  shoved  them  out  the  door,  and  pulled  it  shut  and 
locked  it.  Then  we  slipped  down  the  steps  and  around 
to  the  left,  toward  the  river  path.  Something  told  me 
that  already  the  Red  Runners  were  too  near  for  us  to 
get  away  without  being  seen.  So  I  drew  my  boys  into 
the  shadow,  and  not  too  soon,  either,  for  up  the  river 
path  came  two  dark  shapes,  but  even  in  the  night  time  I 
knew  those  shapes  for  Harkinson  and  Long  Tom.  They 
stopped  beneath  the  window.  I  saw  a  flash  of  light 
move  rapidly  up  the  side  of  the  shack  as  Long  Tom 
snapped  on  his  electric  lamp.  He  held  it  close  to  the 
window  pane,  and  together  they  peered  in. 

"They've  got  it,"  came  in  a  whisper  from  Long 
Tom.  "They've  got  it  in  a  cage.  Easy.  Hold  this 
light." 

They  worked  at  the  window  for  a  minute,  then 
I  heard  the  sash  raised. 

"Here  y'are,"  whispered  Long  Tom  again.  "Put 
yer  foot  up.  I'll  give  you  a  lift." 

Harkinson's  clumsy  shape  moved  up  and  into  the 
window.  Long  Tom  turned  the  light  upon  the  cage 
that  stood  upon  the  cupboard.  The  little  speckled 

164 


A    PAIR    OF    OWLS 

bird  no  longer  sat  on  top.  Only  Roy's  captured  bird 
was  there  for  Harkinson.  He  worked  at  the  cage  so 
quickly,  turning  his  head  often  to  see  that  no  one  but 
Long  Tom  was  below,  that  he  did  not,  perhaps,  realize 
that  owls  may  look  alike,  and  yet  be  different  birds.  Just 
what  happened  in  there  between  Harkinson  and  the  caged 
bird  I  cannot  tell.  I  do  know  that  there  came  a  flutter 
of  wings  as  Harkinson  reached  into  the  cage.  Then  came 
a  yell  from  Harkinson,  and  the  flashlight  dropped  from 
Long  Tom's  hand  as  Harkinson  came  tumbling  through 
the  window,  and  both  boys  rolled  over  the  ground.  They 
rolled  a  few  feet  away  from  the  shack.  Then  Harkinson 
picked  himself  up  and  ran  back,  and,  stooping,  picked 
up  the  flashlight  and  turned  it  on.  Something  moved 
upon  the  ground  below  the  window — a  little  round  shape 
— Harkinson  uttered  a  savage  cry  and  brought  the  flash- 
light down  with  a  thud.  Long  Tom  was  up  and  by  his 
side  by  now.  Together  they  looked  upon  the  pile  of 
feathers  that  lay  in  the  circle  of  light  that  fell  from  the 
electric  lamp.  It  quivered  once,  and  then  was  still. 
I  heard  Roy  give  a  smothered  cry  of  angry  surprise 
as  the  light  disclosed  his  owl  dead  at  Harkinson's 
feet. 

"The  thing  got  me,"  said  Harkinson  to  Long  Tom. 
"Seemed  like  it  took  hah*  my  finger.  Lend  me  your 
han'kchif,  Long  Tom?" 

"  'Taint  your  own,  then?"  asked  Long  Tom,  as  he 
wrapped  his  handkerchief  around  Harkinson's  bleeding 
finger. 

"Naw,"  replied  Harkinson,  "it  fooled  me,  though. 
I'll  get  Becky  soon's  you  tie  up  my  hand.  Gosh,  how 
it  bleeds.  His  old  crooked  beak  dug  right  in.  Lucky  it 
didn't  take  the  whole  finger." 

The  hand  wrapped,  Harkinson  drew  from  under  his 
165 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

long  coat  an  old  brass  horn  and  blew  a  shrill  blast  upon 
it.  It  woke  echoes  all  through  the  wood,  and  running 
feet,  for  the  Red  Runners  began  to  come  in,  and  flapping 
wings,  for  the  pet  owl  knew  that  its  master  was  calling — 
we  saw  the  little  speckled  shape  float  out  of  our  window  as 
the  notes  of  the  horn  died  away.  Harkinson  called  in  a 
strange  tone,  and  the  pet  settled  upon  his  shoulder. 

We  crouched  lower  in  the  shadow  of  the  steps  as 
from  the  woods  came  the  Red  Runners  in  answer  to 
the  call  of  the  horn.  They  huddled  around  their  leaders 
for  a  few  minutes,  talking  in  low  tones,  and  then  Harkin- 
son stooped  and  picked  up  Roy's  dead  owl  and  flung  it 
through  the  window  into  the  clubhouse.  Then,  silently, 
in  single  file,  raced  the  Red  Runners  down  to  the  river 
where  their  boat  waited. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  called  a  voice  from  the  path. 
It  was  Doc  Waters.  "I  heard  that  horn,  Hawkins.  If 
I'm  not  mistaken  I  heard  that  before.  It  used  to  mean 
trouble.  Come  up  out  of  that  dark,  will  you?  Tell  me 
what's  up." 

I  felt  safe  with  Doc.  "Come  in,"  I  said,  and  we  un- 
locked and  lit  up.  I  told  Doc  as  quickly  as  I  could  what 
had  happened.  He  listened  with  a  frowning  face. 

"How  many  times  must  I  tell  you  not  to  take  chances, 
Hawkins?"  he  asked  when  I  finished.  "Some  of  these 
days  one  of  these  Watertown  boys — " 

He  stopped  as  his  eyes  caught  sight  of  the  dead  owl 
upon  the  floor,  where  it  had  fallen  when  Harkinson  threw 
it  in  the  window. 

"Great  Scott!"  he  exclaimed.  "Where  did — whose 
is  that?" 

"That's  one  of  the  owls  I  was  telling  you  about.  Roy 
trapped  it  in  his  pop's  barn — " 

166 


167 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Well,  if  that  ain't  one  of  the  finest  horned  owls  I 
ever  saw — that's  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  one  around  here. 
Say,  boys,  Judge  Granbery  would  give  a  ten-dollar 
bill  for  that  bird  and  have  it  stuffed — " 

"We  will  take  it  up  to  his  house  right  away,"  I  said. 
Which  we  did. 


168 


XVII 

Seventh  in  Line 

THERE  were  two  fellows  in  the  group  sitting  around 
the  campfire  that  I  was  glad  to  see  when  I  came 
down  after  school  for  the  regular  meeting.  Robby 
Hood  and  Shadow  Loomis  were  there,  talking  with  the 
other  fellows  as  if  they  were  perfectly  at  home. 

"Hi,  there,"  I  called.  "Looks  like  we  will  have  a  full 
house  for  one  meeting,  anyhow." 

They  got  up  and  came  to  meet  me,  and  they  looked 
happy. 

"Heard  about  your  escape  from  Harkinson  and  Long 
Tom,"  said  Shadow.  "The  boys  were  just  telling  us." 

"And  about  the  owls,  too,"  added  Robby  Hood, 
laughing. 

"Hot  times  we've  been  having,"  I  said.  "Where  in 
the  world  do  you  fellows  keep  yourself?  We  thought 
sure  you  would  come  to  our  meetings  once  in  a  while." 

"They  was  afraid  Lew  Hunter  would  make  'em  sing," 
said  Jerry  Moore. 

"Can't  be  a  member  lest  you  join  the  singing  prac- 
tice," said  Lew  Hunter. 

"I've  got  a  fine  voice,  Lew,"  said  Shadow,  with  a 
grin.  "I  think  I  sing  falsetto,  or  something  like  that." 

"You'll  have  to  join  the  Pelhams,  then,"  said  Lew. 
"They're  the  only  ones  that  sing  false  around  here. 
They're  false  in  and  out,  everything  they  do." 

"Let  'em  be,"  said  Shadow;  "let  'em  be.  Gee,  I'd 
like  to  have  one  of  'em  say  something  smart  to  me.  I'd 
make  him  like  Pelham  better  than  this  side  of  the  river." 

169 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"How  about  the  Red  Runners?"  I  asked.  "What  do 
you  know  about  them,  Shadow?" 

"They're  still  running,"  said  Shadow.  "I've  man- 
aged to  keep  clear  of  'em  so  far;  but  Androf ski's  sworn 
that  he  will  get  me  yet,  no  matter  how  I  dodge 
him." 

"Androfski?"  I  repeated;  "that's  a  new  one  on  me, 
Shadow.  Who's  this  Androfski?" 

"You've  seen  him  if  you  ever  saw  the  Red  Runners," 
said  Shadow.  "He's  the  third  one  in  the  line  as  they  run 
— first  comes  Long  Tom,  then  Harkinson,  then  Androfski. 
You  might  call  him  the  third  leader.  You  see,  they  al- 
ways run  in  the  order  of  their  importance.  When  Long 
Tom  and  Harkinson  are  away,  Androfski  is  the  boy  who 
takes  charge." 

"They  sure  do  keep  order,"  said  Dick  Ferris.  "If 
I  could  keep  my  boys  in  line  like  that,  and  make  them 
jump  and  run  when  I  blow  a  horn,  we'd  be  able  to  do 
anything." 

"What's  this  Andrewski  got  against  you,  Shadow?" 
I  asked. 

"Androfski,  I  told  you  his  name  was,"  replied  Shadow. 
"Robby's  acquainted  with  him,  too.  He's  just  naturally 
mean,  Androfski  is;  not  that  he  has  anything  on  Har- 
kinson or  Long  Tom  at  that.  But  he  never  forgets  the 
time  I  caught  him  swiping  the  milk  from  our  front  porch. 
Maw  had  been  missing  it  for  a  week,  and  I  got  up  earlier 
than  usual  one  morning  and  laid  for  the  thief.  In  a  little 
while  this  greasy  Androfski  came  sneaking  around.  I 
let  him  get  away  the  first  time.  I  though  maybe  some- 
body else  had  been  doing  it  the  other  mornings.  But 
the  next  morning  I  caught  him  as  he  was  lifting  the  bottle 
— he  hit  me  with  the  dern  thing  and  made  me  look  like 
I  was  whitewashed  when  he  broke  the  bottle  on  my  head 

170 


SEVENTH   IN   LINE 

and  the  milk  went  over  me.  I  had  an  awful  lump  on  my 
bean  for  a  week.  But  you  ought  to  see  what  Androfski 
had  for  two  weeks.  Yeah,  I  did  him  up  proper,  and  he 
ain't  forgot  it.  Only  a  week  ago  a  brick  dropped  off  a 
roof  and  fell  a  few  feet  from  where  I  passed  on  the  side- 
walk. I  looked  up  just  in  time  to  see  Androfski  jerk  his 
greasy  face  back  from  the  edge  of  the  roof.  Then  I 
crossed  the  street  and  went  on  up  the  other  side." 

"You  don't  say!"blurted  out  Jerry  Moore.  "Does 
he — do  those  Red  Runners  play  such  dangerous  games?" 

"Games?"  repeated  Shadow.  "Some  game,  I  calls 
it." 

"I'd  tell  the  Sheriff  on  him,  I  would,"  said  Johnny 
McLarren. 

"I  did.  I  thought  I  ought  to,  because  he  might  pick 
out  some  other  fellow,  you  know,  a  guy  who  might  not 
be  able  to  care  take  of  himself  like  I  always  do.  And  the 
Sheriff  heard  something  about  the  Red  Runners  that 
made  him  mad.  Anyway,  he  told  us  that  we  would  be 
doing  him  a  favor  if  we  would  capture  the  leaders  and 
turn  'em  over  to  him.  Didn't  he,  Robby?" 

"Yeah;  yesterday  he  told  us.  That's  why  we  came. 
We  thought  we  ought  to  talk  this  over.  Maybe  we  will 
get  a  chance  to  nab  the  whole  bunch,  or  two  or  three 
of  'em,  anyway." 

"Come  up  to  the  clubhouse,"  said  Dick  Ferris; 
"it's  time  to  hold  our  meeting." 

It  was  Perry  Stokes's  turn  to  watch,  and  he  stayed 
on  the  river  bank  while  we  went  up  into  the  clubhouse 
and  held  our  meeting.  The  boys  all  paid  their  dues,  and 
Robby  and  Shadow  paid  what  they  owed  for  the  last 
few  weeks  they  missed.  Our  little  tin  treasury  box  is 
getting  rich  again.  I  think  we  might  be  able  to  save  a  nice 
little  sum.  But  most  likely,  when  we  do,  something  will 

171 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

come  along  and  cost  us  a  big  pile,  and  blooey!  Treasury 
is  only  a  tin  box  again. 

We  talked  about  how  we  would  watch  and  wait  for 
the  time  when  we  could  capture  the  Red  Runners  all 
together  when  they  least  expected  it.  Shadow  said 
it  would  be  best  that  way,  because,  if  we  did  catch  only 
one  or  two  the  others  would  be  mighty  careful  not  to  get 
into  such  a  net  again.  But  Shadow  said  if  we  could 
only  get  one  or  two  we  would  do  so  and  take  a  chance. 
Robby  Hood  said  it  wouldn't  be  an  easy  job,  and  I 
agreed  with  Robby.  Jerry  Moore  talked  as  if  he  could 
do  it  single-handed,  catch  the  whole  bunch  himself,  and 
make  'em  goose-march  right  to  the  Sheriff.  But  Jerry 
always  like  to  tell  stories.  He  always  used  to  read  fairy 
tales  to  Little  Prankie  Kane.  Now  he  doesn't  read  'em 
any  more,  he  makes  'em  up  himself . 

"Hawkins,"  said  Shadow  to  me,  as  the  meeting  broke 
up,  "Robby's  been  telling  me  about  that  wonderful 
Cave  River  in  which  so  much  happened  down  here. 
I'm  dying  to  see  that  there  river,  buddy." 

"Good  night!"  I  said.  "We've  been  steering  clear 
of  it,  Shadow.  So  much  trouble  came  to  us  in  the  old 
cave.  That's  where  Stoner — " 

"I  told  him  about  that,"  said  Robby  Hood;  "but  it's 
all  past  now.  Let's  take  Shadow  up  and  show  him  the 
river.  I  bet  you  never  saw  a  river  go  into  a  cliff  like  this 
does,  Shadow." 

"No,"  said  Shadow,  "it  must  be  fine.  That's  why  I 
want  to  see  it." 

We  took  two  canoes  and  paddled  down  the  river, 
Dick  Ferris  and  I  in  the  first  one,  and  Shadow  and  Robby 
in  the  second.  Dick  looked  a  bit  gloomy. 

"My  pop  would  lam  me  if  he  knew  I  was  going  in 
there,"  he  said.  "How  about  you,  Hawkins?" 

172 


SEVENTH    IN    LINE 

"Same  here,"  I  answered;  "but  I  got  to  oblige  a 
friend.  I'll  just  have  to  hope  that  pop  don't  find  out. 
And  if  he  does,  why,  I  guess  I  just  have  to  take  that  risk, 
Dick." 

The  willows  still  hung  over  the  old  mouth  of  Cave 
River.  It  was  a  year  since  I  had  seen  the  old  place,  but, 
now  that  I  got  close  to  it,  I  felt  a  strange  wish  to  see 
inside  it  again.  How  many  times — how  many  strange 
memories  that  old  place  brought  back — and  thoughts 
of  the  Skinny  Guy — 

"The  water's  high,  duck  your  head,"  called  Dick 
Ferris  to  the  canoe  behind,  as  we  shot  under  the  willows 
and  through  the  low  arch  of  Cave  River's  doorway,  and 
we  were  in  the  gloomy  cave  under  the  cliff.  The  sound 
of  water  running  through  and  the  dripping  from  the  ceil- 
ing was  all  that  came  to  our  ears  after  we  had  passed 
through  the  low  doorway  that  separated  us  from  the 
outside  world.  We  could  hear  the  paddling  of  the  canoe 
behind  us.  Then  the  rays  of  our  flashlights  began  play- 
ing up  and  down  the  sides  of  the  cave. 

"Some  hole  this  is,"  called  Shadow  Loomis. 
"Wouldn't  think  it  was  here  if  you  didn't  know  it,  would 
you?" 

His  voice  sounded  hollow,  and  the  echoes  came  back 
double  from  the  far  corners  of  the  cave.  We  paddled  on 
in  silence  till  we  reached  the  flat  table  rock  that  stood  on 
the  left  side  of  the  Cave  River.  Here  we  jumped  out 
and  pulled  up  our  canoes.  For  five  minutes  we  stood 
there,  our  lights  turned  on  the  long,  hanging  points  that 
looked  like  icicles,  and  which  threw  back  rays  of  differ- 
ent colored  light.  We  told  Shadow  of  our  strange  ad- 
ventures in  this  part  of  the  cave;  of  the  Skinny  Guy's 
tricks,  of  the  Chinese  magic,  and  all  those  things  about 
which  I  wrote  a  long  time  ago.  Shadow  seemed  to  be 

178 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

enchanted;  he  was  so  surprised  to  find  a  place  like  this 
here  on  our  own  home  grounds. 

And  just  as  I  was  telling  him  that  scarey  part  of  the 
Chinese  magic  there  came  a  sound  that  startled  us  all  into 
fits.  It  was  as  though  a  few  stones  had  been  loosened 
and  tumbled  down  from  some  of  those  galleries  that  ran 
around  above  us  among  those  hanging  icicle  things. 
That  was  all.  We  heard  them  skip  down  and  down 
until  they  landed  with  a  splash  in  Cave  River.  We  all 
put  out  our  lights  in  a  hurry. 

"Somebody  is  up  there,"  whispered  Robby  Hood. 
"He  can't  be  one  of  your  boys,  can  he  Hawkins?" 

"No,"  I  whispered,  "none  of  'em's  allowed  to  come 
here.  May  be  a  Pelham.  Shall  we  sneak  up  and  take  a 
look?" 

"No,"  said  Robby,  "he  has  to  come  back  this  way 
to  get  out.  We  will  wait  here." 

"There's  another  opening,"  I  said,  "up  above — it 
opens  out  through  a  little  hole  in  a  hillside  on  the  main 
road  where  a  tree  is  growing  out  of  the  hill — " 

"Listen,"  said  Shadow,  "I've  been  thinking  about 
this  here  Chinese  magic  you  boys  saw  in  here — maybe 
you  could  have  been  mistaken.  Supposing — " 

"Jump!"  yelled  Dick  Ferris.  He  had  just  turned  on 
his  flashlight  again  and  saw  it  not  a  minute  too  soon.  We 
jumped  back  as  a  big  stone  came  bounding  down  from 
above  us  and  splashed  itself  into  the  Cave  River  beside 
us. 

"By  Golly!"  I  cried.  "That's  too  much.  I  bet  it's  a 
Pelham.  Come  on,  you  fellows,  if  you're  game.  I'm 
goin'  to  get  him." 

The  echoes  of  our  running  feet  as  we  sped  across 
the  table  rock  and  started  up  the  rock  shelf  that  led  up  to 
the  gallery  under  the  ceiling;  the  flashing  of  our  lights 

174 


SEVENTH    IN    LINE 

as  we  hurried  on;  the  sound  of  something  or  somebody 
ahead  of  us — 

"There  he  goes,"  yelled  Dick  Ferris,  "right  through 
the  hole." 

"Don't  let  'im  get  away,"  called  Shadow  Loomis. 

Daylight  was  coming  through  a  little  hole  in  the  side 
of  the  cave  ahead  of  us.  A  shadow  darkened  it  as  we  saw 
a  boy  squeezing  himself  through,  but  only  for  a  minute, 
and  then  he  was  gone,  and  daylight  streamed  through 
the  opening  again.  Shadow  and  Robby  reached  it  first, 
and  were  through  it  by  the  time  I  came  out,  Dick  at 
my  heels.  As  I  joined  them  they  were  standing  there, 
looking  at  a  running  boy  who  had  started  back  toward  our 
river  bank  as  fast  as  he  could  go.  No  use  to  follow,  I 
knew.  He  could  run,  and  why  shouldn't  he?  He  wore 
a  red  sweater — he  was  one  of  the  Red  Runners,  who  were 
famous  for  their  speed,  because  they  practiced  running 
more  than  anything  else. 

But  then  we  saw  that  red  jacket  slow  up  suddenly. 
I  wondered  why,  but  I  saw  the  reason  a  second  after- 
ward. The  reason  was  Jerry  Moore,  who  headed  him  off, 
and  behind  Jerry  was  Johnny  McLarren  and  Bill  Darby 
and  Perry  Stokes.  They  ran  for  the  Red  Runner,  but 
he  turned  in  his  tracks  and  started  running  back,  and 
would  have  got  away,  too,  but  for  us.  He  saw  us  coming 
down,  and  he  was  puzzled  for  a  moment,  and  looked 
this  way  and  that  as  though  wondering  which  way  was 
best  to  escape.  That  pause  cost  him  dearly,  for 
Jerry  Moore  is  a  pretty  fair  runner  himself,  and  the 
way  he  fell  upon  that  Red  Runner  brought  them  both 
tumbling  in  the  sand.  The  Red  Runner  fought  gamely 
but  Bill  Darby  and  Perry  Stokes  came  to  Jerry's  side,  and 
they  had  made  the  first  capture  of  a  Red  Runner. 

"Ah!"  said  Jerry,  as  we  came  up.  He  was  sitting 
175 


v  AW  THEY  MAFE  THE  Ftet>Y  CAPTURE 


176 


SEVENTH    IN    LINE 


upon  the  fallen  Red  Runner,  who  had  given  in.  "I  knew 
there  was  a  spy  around  here,  Hawkins.  And  I  told  you 
I'd  get  him,  too.  Didn't  I?" 

We  were  all  sitting  around  the  table  in  the  clubhouse. 
Our  prisoner  stood  before  us,  his  hands  tied  behind 
his  back.  Perry  Stokes  stood  at  the  door  with  a  gun 
to  prevent  escape.  Both  Robby  and  Shadow  stepped  up 
to  take  a  look  at  the  Red  Runner's  face.  "Never  saw 
this  one  before,"  said  Shadow  "Me  neither,"  said 
Robby.  "They  get  new  ones  sometimes." 

"What's  your  name,  boy?"  I  asked.  He  looked  sulky 
for  a  minute,  but  I  smiled  at  him  and  asked  him  again: 
"What's  your  name,  kid?" 

"Lasky,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"You're  a  Red  Run- 
ner, I  guess?"  I  asked 
again. 

"Wouldn't  do  me 
any  good  to  lie  about 
that,"  answered  Lasky; 
"you  see  my  sweater. 
I'm  proud  to  say  it; 
seventh  in  line;  that's 
me." 

"Got  'em  all  num- 
bered and  everything," 
I  said.  "Fine  business, 
those  Red  Runners  got, 
and  you're  a  spy,  ain't 
you?" 

"You  guessed  it." 
"Harkinson   sent 
you?" 

19 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"No,  we  take  turns;  it  was  my  turn.  Nobody  sends 
us.  We  know  when  it's  our  turn." 

"Ain't  that  wonderful,  Shadow?"  I  asked.  "These 
Red  Runners  work  like  clockwork.  What  did  you  find 
out,  Seventh-in-Line  Lasky?  What  you  goin'  to  tell 
when  you  get  back?  That  is,  if  we  let  you  get  back?" 

"Nothin'.  I  ain't  seen  or  heard  nothin'.  My  turn's 
up  to-night.  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  report." 

Something  told  me  the  Seventh-in-Line  was  telling 
the  truth,  and  wasn't  afraid  to  tell  it.  I  sort  o'  liked 
Lasky  for  that,  even  though  he  was  a  Red  Runner. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "the  Sheriff  of  Watertown  wants 
all  you  boys.  Did  you  hear  about  that?" 

"Yeah,"  Lasky  nodded  as  he  spoke;  "we  all  know  it. 
I  kinda  thought  I  might  get  caught  by  you  fellas  some 
day.  But  a  fella  has  to  take  that  chance,  and  I  took 
it  and  lost." 

I  walked  up  to  Seventh-in-Line  Lasky  and  quickly 
opened  my  pocket-knife  and  cut  the  ropes  that  bound 
his  hands. 

"All  right,  Lasky,"  I  said,  "beat  it.  You  haven't 
anything  to  report." 

He  smiled,  surprised,  as  he  looked  up  at  me,  and  then 
around  the  faces  behind  the  table.  Then,  without  a  word, 
he  turned  to  the  door.  I  motioned  Perry  Stokes  to  let 
him  pass,  and  he  stepped  aside.  The  Red  Runner  leaped 
clear  of  the  porch  and  sped  down  the  path  to  the  river, 
and  I  thought  most  likely  maybe  he  had  a  skiff  or  some- 
thing hidden  down  there. 

The  boys  sat  staring  at  me,  as  if  I  was  the  biggest 
fool  they  ever  saw.  Shadow  Loomis  was  the  only  one  who 
had  a  half  smile  on  his  face  and  seemed  to  understand 
what  I  was  doing. 

"Well,  if  you  ain't  a  bonehead!"  Jerry  Moore  blurted 
178 


SEVENTH    IN    LINE 

out.  "If  I'd  a  known  you  was  goin'  to  set  him  free,  dern 
if  I  wouldn't  have  punched  him  a  couple  first.  What's 
the  use  catchin'  these  Red  Runners  if  you're  gonna  set 
'em  free  right  away?" 

"Catch  the  Red  Runners  and  I  won't  set  a  single 
one  free,  Jerry,"  I  answered  him.  "Lasky  is  only  seventh 
in  line,  you  know.  Say,  Shadow,  we  left  our  canoes  up 
in  Cave  River.  If  you're  not  afraid  of  Chinese  magic 
we'd  better  go  up  and  bring  'em  back." 

Which  we  did. 


179 


XVIII 

A  Hallowe'en  Phantom 

I  DON'T  think  Seventh-in-Line  Lasky  ever  told 
Harkinson  or  the  other  Red  Runners  that  we  had 
captured  him.  And  I  don't  think  he  ever  forgot 
that  I  turned  him  loose.  I  kind  o'  think  he  expected  us 
to  turn  him  over  to  the  Sheriff.  He  knew  the  Sheriff 
was  after  the  Red  Runners.  But  I  remember  the  last 
look  Lasky  gave  me  as  he  turned  and  flew  out  of  our 
clubhouse.  It  was  a  kind  of  a  thankful  look.  As  if  he 
wanted  me  to  know  that  he  understood  that  I  had  set 
him  free,  and  got  him  out  of  a  fix  that  he  couldn't  have 
hoped  to  escape  from  without  my  help. 

But  I  didn't  do  it  for  anything  like  that.  No.  I 
figured  it  out  quickly  myself,  and  so  did  Shadow  Loomis. 
Lasky  was  seventh  in  line.  He  didn't  count  for  much 
in  the  Red  Runners.  And  he  hadn't  found  out  anything 
to  report  during  his  spying  upon  our  headquarters. 
What  harm,  then,  would  there  be  in  turning  him  loose? 
What  good  would  it  have  done  to  turn  Lasky  over  to 
the  Sheriff?  No;  if  we  had  caught  Harkinson,  or  Long 
Tom,  or  any  of  the  others,  why,  I  might  have  thought 
different.  But  Lasky;  no,  he  wouldn't  be  much  use 
to  the  Sheriff. 

Jerry  Moore  did  not  quite  forgive  me  for  letting  Lasky 
go.  Jerry  had  caught  him,  and  had  made  the  first  cap- 
ture of  a  Red  Runner.  To  Jerry,  that  meant  a  whole  lot, 
for  Jerry  is  kind  o'  stuck  on  his  smartness,  and  what  he 
can  do.  All  the  week  afterward  he  was  sore  at  me;  he 
would  hardly  talk  to  me.  Yet  he  knew  that  it  wouldn't 

180 


A   HALLOWE'EN   PHANTOM 

have  done  any  good  to  hold  Lasky.  I  made  him  own  up 
to  that.  But  he  stayed  sulky,  and  kept  away  from  me  as 
much  as  he  could. 

But,  now,  Halloween-time  was  coming  on,  and  the 
boys  were  busy,  and  the  clubhouse  was  humming.  Funny 
how  a  time  like  Halloween  always  makes  the  fellows 
hustle  around  more  than  other  times.  Perry  Stokes 
would  sneak  away  from  the  clubhouse  each  afternoon  as 
soon  as  the  meeting  would  be  over.  Each  night  when 
he  returned  he  carried  in  a  sack  a  fine  pumpkin.  Al- 
ready there  were  five  fine,  big  pumpkins  lying  on  our 
clubhouse  floor,  waiting  to  be  cut  into  jack-lanterns. 

"Perry,"  I  said,  "where  do  you  get  these  fine  things?" 

"Oh,  the  punkins?" 

"Sure,  you  know  what  I  mean  well  enough.  Whose 
pumpkin  patch  have  you  been  robbing,  Perry?  Do 
you  know  it  ain't  honest?" 

"I  didn't  steal  from  no  punkin  patch,  Hawkins. 
These  grow  wild  down  on  the  edge  of  the  woods  by  Bur- 
neys'  field." 

"Wild?     Wild  pumpkins,  Perry?" 

"Yes,  wild  ones,  sir.  There's  a  lot  of  'em  right  by 
Burney's — " 

"Go  on,"  I  said,  "you  know  these  fine  things  don't 
grow  wild.  You've  been  stealing  'em." 

I  wouldn't  talk  to  him  any  more  about  the  pumpkins, 
but  I  could  see  that  Perry  was  hurt  by  the  way  I  scolded 
him. 

Roy  Dobel  took  Shadow  Loomis  and  Hobby  Hood 
and  me  down  to  his  pop's  farm  one  afternoon,  and  said 
we  could  ride  the  horses  that  were  in  the  pasture  if  we 
could  catch  them.  I  had  a  dickens  of  a  time  catching 
mine,  but  Shadow  Loomis  can  do  anything.  He  had 
his  before  any  of  us,  and  I  caught  mine  last  of  all.  We 

181 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

had  a  pretty  good  ride  then,  and  we  must  have  gone  five 
miles  out  on  the  road  before  we  thought  of  turning  back. 
The  next  day,  when  the  other  fellows  heard  of  it,  of 
course,  they  had  to  go  horseback  riding,  too.  I  tell 
you,  when  all  of  the  boys  went  along  we  looked  like  an 
army.  And  how  we  made  the  dust  fly!  Those  were 
happy  afternoons.  We  all  got  to  know  our  own  horses. 
Each  fellow  always  picked  out  the  same  horse  to  ride. 
Shadow  Loomis  always  gave  his  old  brown  horse  some- 
thing to  eat.  I  think  it  was  a  lump  of  sugar.  Any- 
way, every  time  he  got  off  the  old  plug  he  would  give 
it  a  handful  of  something.  The  third  day  after  we  began 
riding,  Shadow's  old  horse  would  follow  him  around. 
Looking  for  something  to  eat,  I  guess.  Shadow  never  had 
to  catch  his  horse  any  more  after  that.  As  soon  as  we 
would  come  to  the  field  the  old  plug  that  Shadow  rode 
would  come  running  to  him,  while  all  the  rest  of  us  would 
have  to  go  running  after  ours  and  spend  fifteen  minutes 
chasing  'em  before  we  could  get  on. 

Well,  the  horseback  riding  was  fine  for  a  few  days. 
And,  during  all  this  time,  we  did  not  have  any  trouble, 
either  with  the  Pelhains  or  the  Red  Runners.  It  seemed 
as  though  our  enemies  had  quit  bothering  us.  But, 
of  course,  that  was  too  good  to  be  true. 

Still,  I  always  say  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  Perry's 
pumpkins,  we  wouldn't  have  got  into  trouble  that  day. 
I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  We  had  all  met  at  the  club- 
house, and,  after  our  meeting,  we  had  gone  riding  again. 
I  asked  Robby  Hood  and  Shadow  Loomis  to  stay  for 
supper  at  my  house,  which  they  did.  After  supper  I 
said  I  was  going  down  to  the  clubhouse  to  do  some 
writing  for  a  little  while,  and  they  could  come  down  if 
they  wanted  to.  But  Shadow  said  he  was  going  up  to 
a  place  he  knew  in  our  town  where  they  made  false  faces 

182 


A   HALLOWE'EN   PHANTOM 

and  masquerade  suits  for  Halloween.  Robby  said  he 
would  like  to  have  one,  too.  So  they  both  set  off  together, 
while  I  went  down  to  the  clubhouse. 

Jerry  was  on  watch  there  that  night.  He  said  "Hi" 
very  shortly — he  didn't  talk  much  to  me  since  I  let  Lasky 
go — and  he  sat  on  the  step  with  the  gun,  while  I  unlocked 
the  door  and  went  in.  I  had  been  writing  in  my  office 
about  ten  minutes  when  Jerry  came  in  and  said:  "There's 
a  man  outside." 

For  a  minute  I  was  a  little  excited.  I  thought  maybe 
he  was  going  to  say  it  was  a  Red  Runner  out  there.  But 
right  after  he  said  it  in  came  a  man  whom  I  had  never 
seen  before. 

"Beggin'  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "I  don't  like  to  in- 
trude, but  I  came — you  are  Seckatary  Hawkins,  I  take 
it?" 

"That's  what  all  the  boys  call  me,"  I  answered. 

"Yes,  yes.  I  knew  it  was  you,  sir,  the  moment  I 
set  my  eyes  upon  you.  You,  perhaps,  don't  know  me. 
I  am  the  butler  at  Judge  Granbery's — Perry's  father, 
sir." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "Perry  Stokes,  yes,  I  know  him.  Glad 
to  meet  you,  Mr.  Stokes.  I  like  your  son  very  much. 
He  sure  is  a  fine  boy." 

"But  he's  not  at  home,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Stokes;  "it's 
strange,  you  know,  him  not  home  for  his  evening  meal. 
His  mother  can't  understand  it  at  all,  and  we  thought 
you  might — " 

"That's  right,"  I  said  to  myself,  "Perry  was  not 
with  us  out  riding  this  afternoon." 

Then,  to  Perry's  father,  I  said : 

"Did  he  say  where  he  was  going  when  he  left  home 
to-day?" 

"No,  he  never  does  any  more.     His  mother  thinks 
183 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

he  is  always  with  you  boys.    Is  it  possible  that  he  could 
have  taken  a  boat  and  gone  down  the  river?" 

"Mr.  Stokes,"  I  said,  "if  you  will  go  home  and  not 
worry  I  will  get  my  boys  busy  at  once  and  we  will  scout 
around.  I'll  let  you  hear  from  me  if  we  can't  find  him." 

So,  after  I  had  got  rid  of  Perry's  father,  I  called 
Jerry  Moore  in  and  told  him  what  I  had  heard.  Jerry 
grunted.  "Huh!  It's  no  wonder.  Him  stealing  pump- 
kins every  day — I  knew  it,  Hawkins.  One  of  those 
farmers  got  him  and  prob'ly  had  him  locked  up  or  some- 
thing." 

"You're  right,  Jerry,"  I  said.  "Would  you  care  to 
take  a  trip  down  towards  Burney's  Field  with  me?" 

"It's  a  purty  lonesome  place,  Hawkins,"  said  Jerry. 

"Sure,  but  it  won't  be  lonesome  if  you  and  I  go  to- 
gether." 

Just  then  came  Robby  and  Shadow  Loomis.  Each 
carried  a  bundle  in  his  arm. 

"Wait  till  you  see  my  Halloween  suit,  Hawkins," 
said  Shadow. 

"I  haven't  time  for  anything  now,  boys,"  I  said.  "Jerry 
and  I  have  got  to  scout  around  and  find  Perry  Stokes. 
He  hasn't  been  home  to  his  supper,  and  his  maw's  wor- 
ried sick."  Then  I  told  them  what  we  had  heard.  They 
wanted  to  come  along,  but  I  told  them  to  stay  in  the 
clubhouse  together  and  lock  the  door  and  wait  till  we 
came  back. 

Jerry  and  I  were  soon  paddling  in  a  eanoe  down  the 
river,  and  a  short  distance  down  we  crossed  over  to 
the  Pelham  side  and  pulled  up  our  canoe  and  hid  it 
behind  the  trees.  Then  we  started  lickety-split  for  Bur- 
ney's Field.  That's  where  Perry  had  said  the  pumpkins 
were  growing  wild.  If  he  had  gone  for  another  pumpkin 
he  had  gone  toward  Burney's  Field,  and,  if  he  had 

184 


A   HALLOWE'EN   PHANTOM 

gotten  into  trouble,  it  was  most  likely  somewhere 
around  Burney's  Field  that  we  should  find  him.  And  it 
was.  But  it  was  strange  how  we  should  find  him  at 
that.  Stranger  than  you  would  imagine. 

"What's  that  red  in  the  sky?"  asked  Jerry,  as  we 
shoved  through  the  woods. 

"That's  a  fire  somewhere,"  I  said.  "A  bonfire,  most 
likely,  but  not  a  big  one,  or  it  would  be  redder." 

I  took  the  lead  and  shoved  on  ahead.  The  woods 
thin  out  near  the  edge  of  Burney's  Field.  And  we  had 
come  out  suddenly  into  the  red  glow  of  the  fire.  Our 
footsteps  had  made  enough  noise.  Yet,  as  we  neared 
it  through  the  woods,  I  thought  I  had  heard  talking  and 
laughing.  But  there  it  was,  only  a  big  fire,  blazing  high. 

"Somebody's  been  here,  and  not  very  long  ago," 
said  Jerry,  "for  there  is  fresh  wood  on  that  fire — see  how 
it  blazes." 

I  was  about  to  say  something  about  that  myself  when 
there  came  a  loud  yelling,  and  from  the  trees  all  around 
us  sprang  a  dozen  Red  Runners.  They  jumped  upon  us 
like  wild  cats,  and  we  were  pinned  to  the  ground.  At 
once  they  stopped  their  yelling.  Not  another  sound 
they  made.  Harkinson  was  not  there.  I  looked  eagerly 
into  every  face  to  see  if  the  old  hypnotizer  or  Long  Tom 
was  among  them.  But  both  the  leaders  were  absent. 
The  one  who  gave  orders,  while  the  rest  tied  us  up, 
was  a  greasy,  dark-haired,  hook-nosed  fellow,  whom  I 
imagined  was  Androfski,  the  fellow  Shadow  Loomis  told 
us  about.  In  a  few  minutes,  less  than  it  takes  to  tell, 
they  had  us  tied  to  trees  about  four  feet  apart.  When  we 
were  tied  tight  they  seemed  to  forget  all  about  us  and 
walked  back  to  the  fire  and  sat  down,  talking  in  low  whis- 
pers. I  counted  them.  There  was  an  even  dozen. 

"Fine  boobs  we  are  to  walk  into  this  trap,"  muttered 
185 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Jerry  to  me.  I  didn't  feel  like  talking.  "Look  there," 
whispered  Jerry.  I  followed  his  pointing  and  saw,  tied 
to  another  tree,  Perry  Stokes,  his  head  bowed  upon  his 
breast,  sound  asleep.  If  he  had  not  been  tied  so  fast 
to  that  tree  he  would  have  fallen  down  in  a  heap,  but  I 
don't  think  he  would  have  awakened.  Anybody  who 
can  sleep  like  that  won't  wake  up  very  easily. 

"We've  got  to  get  loose,  Jerry,"  I  whispered.  "How 
are  your  hands?" 

"Tight,"  said  Jerry  in  a  low  tone.  "No  use.  Can't 
even  move  my  foot." 

"Listen." 

Across  Burney's  Field  came  a  sound — the  sound  of 
hoof  beats.  The  Red  Runners  had  heard  it,  too.  I  won- 
dered if  they  were  waiting  for  Harkinson  or  Long  Tom  to 
come  and  decide  what  they  were  going  to  do  with  us. 
But  the  hoofbeats  died  away.  It  was  only  some  one  pass- 
ing on  the  river  road,  I  thought.  Another  ten  minutes 
we  stood.  I  tried  to  listen  to  what  the  Red  Runners 
were  talking  about,  but  they  spoke  in  such  low  voices  that 
I  could  not  catch  a  single  word. 

"There  it  comes  again." 

The  sound  of  a  horse  galloping  toward  us.  It  sounded 
near  this  time.  We  could  make  out  a  dim  shadow  now, 
and  it  was  on  the  other  side  of  us,  riding  away  from  us, 
across  Burney's  Field.  Slowly  the  sound  of  those  gal- 
loping hoofs  died  out  again.  "Dern  it,"  said  Jerry  Moore, 
"what's  their  game,  anyhow?  I'm  going  to  get  out  of 
this  if  I  have  to  break  down  this  tree." 

Then  came  a  yell.  It  was  the  worst,  blood-curdling 
yell  I  ever  heard.  It  came  from  the  other  end  of  Burney's 
Field,  and  it  rolled  down  to  us  like  the  cry  of  a  wolf.  I 
saw  some  of  the  Red  Runners  get  up  from  their  places 
around  the  fire  and  stare  into  the  dark  across  the  blaze 

186 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

of  their  fire.  Then  canie  the  sound  of  hoofs  again, 
coming  toward  us,  faster  and  faster.  All  the  Red  Run- 
ners jumped  up  now.  The  hoofbeats  were  sounding  in 
the  middle  of  the  field.  Several  Red  Runners  sprang 
forward  and  then  jumped  back  again.  Quickly  they 
whispered  together  for  a  few  moments.  It  was  easy  to 
see  that  they  were  as  much  puzzled  as  we  were.  And 
then — 

And  then — with  another  frightful  howl  that  sent 
the  chills  up  my  back  there  came  into  the  outer  edge 
of  light  a  frightful  figure — what  could  you  make  of  a 
shape  that  was  no  shape — yet  it  sounded  like  a  horse 
galloping — yet  looked  like  nothing  that  was  ever  seen 
before.  The  Red  Runners  yelled  in  fright,  sprang  for 
the  woods  behind  us,  and  fled  away.  I  looked  just  once 
and  closed  my  eyes  as  I  saw  that  on-coming  shape 
leap  through  the  fire  and  scatter  the  burning  wood  in  a 
million  sparks  in  every  direction.  For  the  one  look  that 
I  had  at  that  ugly,  ghostly  thing  had  nearly  scared  me  to 
death.  It  was  a  yellow  thing — an  ugly  headed  thing, 
upon  which  sat  a  wolf-faced  rider,  the  ugliest  sight  I 
ever  saw.  I  say  I  closed  my  eyes  when  I  took  the  first 
look. 

But  I  opened  them  quickly  when  I  heard  Shadow 
Loomis  yelling  in  my  ear. 

"What's  a  matter,  Hawkins?  Look  here.  How  do 
you  like  this  Halloween  suit?  It's  some  masquerade, 
isn't  it?" 

You  bet  I  opened  my  eyes  then.  I  saw  Shadow  stand- 
ing in  front  of  me,  dressed  in  a  yellow  gown,  holding  in 
his  hands  an  ugly  painted,  pasteboard  mask  that  looked 
like  a  big  wolf's  head,  and  beside  him  was  his  old  pet 
horse,  wearing  a  long  yellow  covering  from  his  head 

188 


A    HALLOWE'EN    PHANTOM 

to  his  tail,  with  two  big  eye  holes,  and  long  fringes  on 
either  side  that  waved  in  the  wind  like  a  hundred  tails. 
Shadow  hurried  to  cut  the  ropes  that  tied  Jerry 
and  me. 

"Well,  of  all  things,"  I  said.     "You  nearly  scared 
me  and  Jerry  to  death,  Shadow." 

"I  had  to,"  said  Shadow,  with  a  laugh.  "I  saved 
you  from  the  Red  Runners — I  just  happened  to  think 
about  it  after  you  boys  left.  I  saw  Androfski  to-day — 
followed  him  down  all  the  way  from  Watertown.  Saw 
the  red  sky  and  figured  it  was  his  camp — he  always 
makes  a  bonfire  where  he  camps — so  I  just  slipped 
into  this  old  wolf  masquerade  that  I  got  for  Halloween. 
See  that  funny  one  on  my  horse?  That's  Robby  Hood's. 
I  borrowed  it,  snuck  down  and  got  my  horse  out  o' 
Dobel's  pasture — easy  enough  to  catch  him  soon  as  I 
holler.  Then  I  dressed  him  up  and  rode  to  Hobb's 
Ferry  and  came  over  and  started  for  the  light.  I  thought 
I'd  give  the  Red  Runners  a  good  scare  while  I  was  at 
it—" 

"You  sure  gave  it  to  'em,"  I  broke  in. 

"I'll  say  he  did,"  called  somebody  across  from  us. 
It  was  Perry  Stokes.  We  had  forgotten  about  him  tied 
to  a  tree  fast  asleep.  The  racket  had  wakened  him.  We 
all  three  hurried  over  and  got  him  loose,  but  he  didn't 
seem  any  the  worse  for  his  long  tie-up.  He  told  us  the 
Red  Runners  had  spied  him  just  as  he  was  making  for 
home,  and  had  taken  him  prisoner. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "we'd  better  get  along  home  as  fast 
as  we  can.  Your  maw  is  worried  sick  about  you  not 
coming  home." 

"All  right,"  said  Perry,  "Wait  till  I  get  my  punkin." 
He  ran  back  into  the  trees  and  came  out  with  a  sack,  in 
which  he  had  another  pumpkin. 

189 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Can  you  beat  that?"  said  Jerry  Moore  to  me. 
"He  sure  is  crazy  about  punkins." 

"Fellas,"  I  said,  "if  you  all  got  time,  I  think  we  better 
go  together  and  explain  how  it  was  that  Perry  couldn't 
get  home  in  time  for  supper  to-night." 

Which  we  did. 


190 


XIX 

The  Face  in  the  Dark 

I  TOOK  a  roundabout  way  to  the  clubhouse  as  I 
came  down  after  school.  I  just  wanted  to  see  how 
things  looked  up  the  river  a  little  ways,  so  I  went 
up  the  main  road  and  then  cut  down  to  the  river,  and 
came  back  up  along  the  water.  As  I  neared  our  wharf  I 
noticed  Hobby  Hood's  boat  tied  up,  and  I  hurried, 
because  I  knew  either  Robby  or  Shadow  was  already  at 
the  clubhouse.  When  I  came  up  I  saw  both  of  'em  sitting 
on  the  porch  steps. 

I  was  just  about  to  step  onto  the  path  when  I  saw  a 
movement  in  the  bushes.  At  once  I  thought  it  was  a 
Red  Runner.  But  when  the  fellow  lifted  his  head  and 
peeped  over  the  bushes  I  saw  that  it  was  Briggen,  the 
Pelham  leader.  He  took  only  one  short  look  at  the  two 
boys  on  the  clubhouse  steps.  Then  his  head  bobbed 
back  down  in  the  bushes,  and  I  heard  him  scrambling 
away. 

"Hi,  fellas,"  I  said,  "y°u  are  sure  on  time  to-day." 

"Easy  when  the  Red  Runners  ain't  around,"  said 
Shadow.  "I  haven't  seen  Harkinson  for  a  week.  The 
rest  of  'em  are  keeping  to  themselves  since  I  gave  them 
that  scare  on  Burney's  field." 

The  boys  arrived  soon  and  we  held  our  meeting 
and  paid  our  dues.  But  all  the  while  I  was  thinking 
of  Briggen  hiding  in  the  bushes  and  wondered  why  the 
Pelham  leader  had  been  spying  on  our  side. 

Bill  Darby  had  brought  down  a  new  football,  and  as 
soon  as  the  meeting  was  over  they  all  rushed  down  to  the 

191 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

hollow  to  play,  except  Shadow  and  Robby  and  Dick 
Ferris  and  me. 

We  walked  out  to  the  porch  and  saw  Jerry  Moore 
building  his  campfire  on  the  river  bank. 

"Same  old  Jerry,"  said  Robby  Hood.  "Wherever 
you  see  him  standing  you'll  see  a  fire  burning  in  a  short 
time." 

We  all  walked  down  and  sat  around  Jerry's  fire — or 
smoke,  rather,  for  he  seemed  to  be  having  a  hard  time 
getting  it  started. 

"Hello,  old  Hippopotamus,"  said  Shadow,  grinning  at 
Jerry.  Shadow  always  liked  to  call  the  boys  nick-names. 

"Hello,  old  Fox,"  answered  Jerry.  (Jerry  was  kind 
o'  quick  about  giving  names  himself.)  "How  comes 
the  hounds  ain't  chasin'  you  to-day,  old  Fox?" 

"Hain't  seen  no  hounds  to-day  yet,"  laughed  Shadow 
in  a  comical  voice;  "but  looky  yonder — what  kind  o' 
water  babies  you  call  those  comin'  to  pay  us  a  visit?" 

We  all  looked  toward  the  river  and  saw  a  boat  pull- 
ing toward  us  from  the  Pelham  shore.  Three  Pelham 
fellows  were  in  it.  Briggen,  the  leader,  sat  in  the  stern, 
while  Ham  Gardner  and  Dave  Burns  pulled  hard  at  the 
oars,  and  it  took  them  little  or  no  time  to  reach  our  bank. 
We  walked  slowly  to  meet  them.  They  had  already 
leaped  out,  and  Briggen  was  leading  the  way  to  us. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Briggen?"  asked  our  Captain, 
Dick  Ferris.  He  and  Briggen  had  been  good  friends 
in  the  days  gone  by,  before  Dick  came  back  to  our  side 
of  the  river. 

"I  ain't  got  nothin'  agin  you  fellas,  Dick,"  said 
Briggen,  "and  Hawkins  and  the  rest.  I  ain't  forgot  how 
you  guys  helped  us  get  clear  of  Harkinson  last  summer. 
But  this  yere  new  guy  you  got  with  you,  it's  him  I  got 
to  talk  to,  and  all  I  ask  is  that  you  don't  butt  in." 

192 


THE    FACE     IN    THE    DARK 

"You  want  to  talk  to  me?"  asked  Shadow,  stepping 
up.  "My  name's  Shadow  Loomis.  I've  heard  lots  about 
you  Pelham  fellas,  but  this  is  the  first  time  I  had  the 
honor  to  meet  you,  I  think." 

"Never  mind  the  fancy  talk,"  grumbled  Briggen. 
"How  come  you  have  such  a  rutty  name  as  Shadow? 
You  don't  look  like  no  shadow  to  me.  You  been  talk- 
ing about  liking  to  meet  us  Pelham  fellas,  ain't  you? 
Yes,  you  did.  Don't  say  you  didn't,  cause  I  had  my 
boys  spying  around  yere  all  the  time.  One  of  my  fellas 
told  me  you  said  you  would  like  to  meet  us  birds;  said 
you  would  make  us  like  our  side  of  the  river  better  than 
this  side,  didn't  you?" 

"Something  like  that,"  answered  Shadow,  smiling. 
"But  only  if  you  tried  to  butt  in.  As  long  as  you  stay 
where  you  belong  and  behave  yourself,  why,  I  won't 
take  the  trouble  of  looking  you  up." 

Briggen  snorted,  angry  and  red  in  the  face. 

"Well,  let  me  tell  you,  smart  boy,"  he  cried,  "we  like 
our  side  of  the  river  well  enough  without  any  fellas  has 
to  make  us  like  it.  And  whenever  we  want  to  we  come 
over  here,  or  we  go  anywheres  else.  Ain't  nobody  told  us 
yet  that  these  fellas  owned  this  side  of  the  river.  See?" 

"Cut  it  out,  Briggen,"  broke  in  Dick  Ferris;  "I 
thought  you  fellas  were  going  to  be  good." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Shadow  slowly.  "Lemme  get 
a  good  look  at  you,  Pelham  boy — where'd  I  see  that  face 
before?  Wonder  if  it  could  have  been  in  the  monkey 
cage  of  that  circus  that  came  here  last  spring?  You 
didn't  break  out  o'  that,  did  you?" 

This  teasing  was  too  much  for  Briggen.  He  made  a 
little  motion  with  one  hand,  and  his  two  side  partners 
moved  back  to  the  boat.  Briggen  stepped  up  closer  to 
Shadow  Loomis. 

13  193 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"You're  a  mighty  flip  talker,"  he  said;  "but  if  you 
wasn't  standing  in  the  middle  of  your  pals,  I'd  punch 
that  pug  nose  of  yours  flat  with  your  face,  see?" 

"Try  it,"  said  Shadow  Loomis. 

Briggen  raised  his  fist,  but  Shadow  quickly  lifted 
one  foot  and  caught  the  Pelham  leader  behind  his  boot 
and  sat  him  down  on  the  ground  with  a  thump.  Brig- 
gen  closed  his  eyes  and  gritted  his  teeth  as  he  landed. 
We  had  to  laugh,  and  when  he  saw  us  laughing  he  grew 
furious.  He  got  up,  rubbing  his  pants,  and  backed 
away. 

"All  right,"  he  whined.  "All  right,  you  got  it  com- 
ing to  you;  just  wait." 

Shadow  had  a  smile  on  his  good-looking  face  as  he 
watched  Briggen  walk  down  to  the  boat,  but  he  did  not 
say  another  word  to  the  Pelham  leader. 

"Come  on,  fellas,"  said  our  Captain.    "Let  'em  go." 

Shadow  gave  a  little  laugh  and  we  turned  and  started 
to  walk  up  the  bank.  I  just  happened  to  turn  my  head 
a  little  and  saw  Briggen  running  up  behind  Shadow. 

"Look  out!"  I  yelled. 

Bam!  Briggen's  fist  caught  Shadow  right  in  the 
back  of  the  neck,  and  he  stumbled  forward.  As  we 
sprang  to  help  him  to  his  feet,  Briggen  dashed  back  to 
his  boat. 

"Doggone,"  muttered  Shadow,  "that's  the  way  they 
fight,  is  it?" 

It  was  no  use  to  follow.  The  Pelham  boat  had  pushed 
off,  and  was  already  out  in  the  deep  water.  Briggen  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  boat  shaking  his  fist  at 
us.  "And  next  time  I'll  give  you  worse  than  that,"  he 
yelled. 

"Like  fun  you  will,"  shouted  Shadow  with  a  grin. 
"Try  it!" 

194 


THE    FACE    IN    THE    DARK 

We  walked  back  and  sat  down  around  Jerry's  camp- 
fire.  For  a  while  no  one  spoke.  Then  Jerry  said : 

"Say,  Shadow,  you're  not  going  to  let  him  get  away 
with  that,  are  you?" 

Shadow  seemed  to  be  dreaming  as  he  gazed  into  the 
fire. 

"Who,  Briggen?"  he  asked.  Then  he  looked  at  the 
fire  awhile,  and  said,  slowly,  "No,  I  kind  o'  think  Brig- 
gen  will  get  paid  back  some  way.  I  always  take  my 
time." 

Just  then  Robby  Hood  came  up  with  the  other  boys 
who  had  ended  their  football  playing. 

"Robby,  please  get  my  suitcase  out  os  your  launch, 
will  you,  buddy?"  asked  Shadow. 

Robby  would  do  anything  for  Shadow  Loomis.  He 
came  back  in  a  little  while  with  the  little  brown  suitcase. 
Seemed  like  Shadow  never  went  anywhere  without  that 
suitcase.  He  carried  all  his  magic  tricks  in  it.  And  when 
I  saw  Robby  bring  it  up  I  knew  right  away  that  Briggen 
was  going  to  get  paid  back  some  way.  Shadow  took  a 
little  square  box  from  his  suitcase  and  said: 

"Will  you  show  me  Briggen's  headquarters  to-night, 
Hawkins?" 

"Sure,"  I  answered.  "But  it's  near  supper-time, 
and  we  better  be  getting  home.  You  and  Robby  come  up 
to  my  house.  My  maw  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  And  she 
baked  some  apple  pies — " 

"Oh,  boy !"  said  Robby  Hood.  "Listen  to  those  apple 
pies.  Come  on,  Shadow,  you  won't  be  sorry  you  went 
after  you  taste  that  pie  Hawkins's  mother  makes." 

Shadow  seemed  as  though  he  did  not  want  to  go, 
but  when  he  heard  about  apple  pie — .  Aw,  well,  I  never 
saw  a  boy  yet  who  didn't  like  apple  pie. 


195 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Lew  Hunter  and  Dick  Ferris  were  the  first  ones  down 
after  supper.  We  heard  the  organ  playing  and  Dick 
singing.  Shadow  made  us  stop  outside  and  listen  till 
the  song  ended.  "Gosh,  how  that  Ferris  boy  can  warble!" 
he  said.  Then  we  went  in.  We  explained  to  Lew  that 
we  wanted  him  to  stay  there  and  keep  all  the  other  boys 
inside  the  clubhouse  when  they  came.  Then  we  went  out, 
Dick  and  Shadow  and  Robby  and  me,  and  took  Jerry 
Moore's  long,  green  canoe  and  started  down  the  river. 
When  we  had  gone  a  little  ways  we  turned  sharp  for  the 
Pelham  bank  and  went  across.  Reaching  the  Pelham 
bank,  we  pulled  the  canoe  up  and  began  to  trot  for  the 
Pelham  shacks.  As  we  neared  the  place  we  could  see  our 
clubhouse  across  the  river,  and  what  a  pretty  sight  it  was 
from  this  distance,  all  lighted  up,  and  the  door  opening  up 
every  once  in  a  while,  which  meant  that  some  of  the 
other  fellows  were  arriving  and  going  in. 

"This  is  Briggen's  headquarters,"  said  Dick  Ferris, 
stopping  in  front  of  the  Pelham  leader's  shack.  "It's 
not  locked,  Shadow." 

Shadow  pushed  in  the  door  and  we  followed.  The 
ray  of  light  from  Shadow's  flashlight  sketched  over  the 
walls.  "All  right,  Robby,"  he  said,  "you  stand  outside 
and  watch  if  anybody  comes.  Dick,  will  you  stand  in 
back  of  the  shack  and  watch?  Hawkins,  you  hold  this 
light  for  me." 

Dick  and  Robby  followed  orders.  I  took  the  light 
and  held  it  while  Shadow  drew  quickly  from  his  pocket 
the  little  box  I  had  seen  him  take  from  his  suitcase. 
Quickly  he  worked  upon  the  rear  wall  of  the  shack, 
as  though  he  was  drawing  a  picture.  Although  he  made 
motions  I  couldn't  see  that  he  left  any  chalk  marks. 
I  held  the  light  right  close. 

196 


197 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Hurry!"  came  Robby's  voice  from  the  front.  "I 
hear  them  coming." 

"Out  with  the  light,  Hawkins,"  whispered  Shadow. 
I  slipped  my  finger  off  the  button  and  we  were  in  the 
dark — Golly,  Moses!  What  was  the  thing  with  hollow 
eyes  and  grinning  teeth  looking  at  us  from  the  wall? 
It  shocked  me  for  a  minute,  but  then  I  laughed  low 
to  myself  as  I  realized  that  Shadow  had  put  it  there. 
But  if  I  had  not  seen  Shadow  do  it,  and  had  come  upon 
that  thing  alone  in  the  dark,  I  sure  would  have  turned 
quick  and  beat  it.  It  was  only  marked  like  a  drawing 
on  the  wall.  I  know  that.  I  don't  know  what  kind  of 
stuff  it  was,  or  what,  but  it  shivered  and  glowed  like 
a  dull  light,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  greenish  smoke 
coming  away  from  it.  Of  all  the  spooky  things  I  ever  saw 
this  face  upon  the  wall  was  the  limit. 

We  heard  Robby  scampering  behind  the  shack  to 
join  Dick.  But  we  were  too  late  to  get  out,  for  we  could 
hear  Briggen  and  Ham  Gardner  talking  right  outside 
the  door.  The  door  was  standing  open  wide,  and  we 
hid  behind  it,  Shadow  and  I,  and  peeped  through  the 
crack.  Briggen  and  Ham  were  standing  there,  looking 
across  the  river.  The  faint  sound  of  Lew's  organ  play- 
ing came  over  the  water  to  us. 

"Looks  like  Hawkins'  bunch  is  having  a  big  time  to- 
night, Ham,"  said  Briggen.  "Maybe  we  could  sneak 
over  and  get  another  smack  at  that  flip  Shadda 
fella." 

"No,"  said  Ham,  "don't  go  back  over  to-night, 
Briggen.  You  forgot  to  lock  your  door  to-night.  Look 
thar',  wide  open." 

"Oh,  it  won't  make  no  difference,  nobody  would  steal 
anything  I  got,"  said  Briggen,  as  he  came  nearer.  We 
saw  him  stop  suddenly  at  the  doorstep.  Then  he  poked 

198 


THE    FACE    IN    THE    DARK 

his  head  into  the  dark  door-  The  next  minute  he  let  out 
a  yell. 

"Oh,  Lordy,  Ham,  look!"  he  whispered,  and  as  Ham 
drew  up  behind  his  shoulder,  Briggen  stumbled  back- 
ward with  fright. 

"Spooks,"  he  cried  in  a  hoarse  voice.  "Spooks,  Ham, 
as  sure  as  you  live — " 

Like  a  flash  Briggen  was  off  up  the  path  that  led 
through  the  woods.  Ham  Gardner  stayed  long  enough 
to  take  one  look  at  the  ugly  shivering  face  that  smoked 
in  its  green  light  upon  the  wall,  and  then  he,  too,  turned, 
and  as  silent  as  a  shadow,  followed  the  path  Briggen 
had  taken. 

Shadow  Loomis  was  laughing  fit  to  kill.  "Oh,  boy!" 
he  cried.  "Did  you  see  his  face,  Hawkins?  He  was 
scared  to  death.  Ho,  ho,  haha — " 

"What's  up?"  came  Dick's  voice,  as  he  and  Robby 
came  to  the  door  with  their  flashlights.  But,  strange  to 
say,  when  the  lights  were  turned  on,  there  was  no  sign 
of  that  face  on  the  wall. 

"Put  out  your  light,  Robby,"  I  said.  And,  then, 
when  we  were  in  the  dark  again  they  saw  that  ugly 
mug  that  had  frightened  the  Pelham  leader  and  Ham. 

"I  never  saw  him  scared  like  that  before,"  said  Dick, 
laughing.  "How  did  you  make  that,  Shadow?" 

But  Shadow  did  not  answer.  He  had  taken  a  rag 
from  his  pocket  and  was  rubbing  it  over  the  wall  where 
the  face  had  been,  and  I  could  smell  that  he  had  benzine 
or  gasoline  on  that  rag. 

"There!"  he  said,  "it  won't  bother  'em  any  more. 
Come  on.  I'm  ready  to  go." 

"Say,  Shadow,"  I  said,  "you  mean  to  say  you  ain't 
goin'  to  give  Briggen  a  licking?" 

"I  had  my  revenge,"  he  said.  "You  don't  always 
199 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

have  to  beat  a  kid  to  get  even,  Hawkins.  Just  to  see  him 
scared  like  that,  and  to  know  I  scared  him,  is  even  enough 
for  me." 

We  were  trotting  down  to  our  canoe,  and  I  thought  to 
myself,  I  never  saw  a  fellow  like  Shadow  before.  We  had 
to  laugh  every  time  we  thought  about  how  scared  Briggen 
was  when  he  looked  into  his  headquarters.  We  hurried 
into  the  canoe  and  paddled  across.  As  we  stepped  out 
on  our  shore  from  far  away  down  the  river  came  the  faint 
sound  of  a  horn. 

"Aha!"  exclaimed  Shadow,  "we  got  back « just  in 
time.  Harkinson — down  on  Seven  Willows  Island. 
Robby,  we  will  have  time  to  get  home  ahead  of  them 
if  we  hurry." 

The  boys  were  standing  on  the  clubhouse  porch  wait- 
ing for  us.  They  all  went  down  to  the  water  with  us  and 
Shadow  and  Robby  started  up  the  river  for  home.  When 
we  saw  the  tail-light  of  their  little  motor  boat  disappear 
around  the  upper  bend  we  started  back  to  the  clubhouse. 

"Listen!"  Dick  Ferris  spoke.  A  little  louder  this 
time  came  the  brassy  notes  of  the  horn.  "Harkinson 
coming  this  way,"  said  our  Captain.  "It's  good  Shadow 
and  Robby  got  this  early  start.  And  we  better  put  those 
lights  out  and  hurry  home  before  they  come  past  here." 

Which  we  did. 


800 


XX 

The  Pelhams  in  Trouble 

EW  HUNTER  was  cleaning  out  the  old  stove  in 
the  clubhouse  when  I  came  down  after  school. 
We  had  not  used  the  old  stove  so  far  this  year, 
and  sometimes  the  clubhouse  was  a  pretty  cold  place  to 
stay.    Most  always  the  fellows  would  rush  out  just  as 
soon  as  our  meeting  was  over  and  go  down  to  the  camp- 
fire  that  Jerry  Moore  always  had  burning  on  the  river 
bank  as  soon  as  school  was  out. 

"Listen,  Hawkins,"  said  Lew,  "you've  got  to  make 
those  kids  stay  here  for  singing  practice  when  I  tell  'em 
to.  Every  day  they  laugh  at  me  and  tell  me  to  sing  to 
myself." 

"You  do  sound  very  fine  singin'  by  yourself,  Lew," 
1  said. 

"Don't  kid  me,"  said  Lew.  "Listen,  they  always 
say  it's  too  cold  to  stay  in  here.  Now,  I'm  goin'  to  have  a 
fire  in  this  old  stove  or  bust  'er,  one  or  the  other.  If  we 
ain't  got  enough  money  in  the  treasury  box  to  buy  a  new 
one  this  one's  got  to  do.  And,  if  it  works,  why,  you  got  to 
make  the  fellas  stay  in  to  singing  practice." 

"All  right,  Lew,"  I  said,  "if  the  others  won't  stay, 
you  can  count  on  me  to  stay,  anyhow." 

Dick  Ferris  came  in. 

"Dick,"  I  said,  "you  better  give  a  few  orders  for  the 
fellas  to  gather  some  firewood.  We've  got  to  keep  the 
stove  going,  you  know." 

"Sure,"  said  Dick,  "it's  time  the  stove  was  kept 
going." 

201 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

So  at  the  meeting  Dick  got  up  and  made  a  rule  that 
everybody  had  to  bring  seven  pieces  of  firewood  in  every 
day.  Why  he  said  seven  I  don't  know;  but  I  guess  he's 
got  it  figured  out  pretty  close.  All  the  boys  understood 
that  it  was  a  rule  that  the  Captain  made,  and  nobody 
made  any  objection.  Right  after  the  meeting  they 
scouted  around,  and  it  wasn't  very  long  till  each  boy 
had  brought  in  his  seven  pieces  of  wood,  and  a  nice  pile 
was  stacked  up  behind  the  stove.  And  the  old  stove 
was  going  nicely,  and  the  clubhouse  as  warm  as  a  fellow 
could  wish. 

Robby  Hood  and  Shadow  Loomis  had  not  come  to 
the  meeting.  The  other  boys,  after  the  meeting  was  over, 
went  to  the  hollow  with  Bill  Darby's  football.  Lew 
Hunter  and  Dick  were  looking  over  some  new  music  sheets 
Lew  had  bought,  and  I  walked  back  into  my  little  office 
and  began  to  write  the  minutes  of  the  meeting.  I  didn't 
like  to  go  out,  it  felt  so  warm  and  nice  inside.  I  hummed 
along  as  Lew  played  the  old  organ,  and  Dick  sang  some 
of  the  new  pieces,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  couldn't 
be  a  nicer  place  than  this  old  clubhouse  shack  in  the 
hollow. 

The  music  and  singing  stopped  after  a  while,  and  I 
heard  Lew  and  Dick  go  out.  I  kept  on  humming  to 
myself  as  I  wrote,  and  then  I  stopped  and  looked  out 
of  the  window,  watching  the  boys  scrambling  for  the 
football  in  the  hollow.  I  heard  the  clubhouse  door  open, 
but  I  thought  it  was  Dick  or  Lew  coming  back  for  some- 
thing. I  was  just  about  to  call  and  ask  who  it  was  when 
all  of  a  sudden  the  curtains  parted  in  my  door  and  the 
Pelham  leader  stood  there. 

"Briggen,"  I  said,  "what  do  you  mean  by  walking 
in  here  just  as  you  please?  Don't  you  know  you  ain't 
allowed — " 

202 


THE    PELHAMS    IN    TROUBLE 

"I  had  to  come,"  broke  in  Briggen.  "I  just  had  to 
come,  Hawkins.  Harkinson  and  his  gang  won't  let  us 
rest.  They  been  hanging  around  in  the  woods  back  o' 
our  shacks  all  week.  Wherever  we  go  we  run  into  a  Red 
Runner." 

I  had  to  smile  at  the  Pelham  leader  as  I  listened  to 
him  say  that. 

"Briggen,"  I  said,  "you  must  be  a  fool  to  play  such 
a  dirty  trick  on  our  Shadow  Loomis  last  week,  and  then 
turn  right  around  and  come  over  here  and  ask  up  to  help 
you." 

"Don't  preach,  Hawkins,"  said  Briggen,  with  a  sour 
look  on  his  face.  "Don't  preach  to  me  any  more.  You 
know  us  fellas  didn't  have  no  bone  to  pick  with  you 
fellas;  it  was  only  that  Shadda  fella;  him  that  was  saying 
things  about  us." 

"Listen,"  I  said,  pointing  my  finger  at  Briggen, 
"Shadow  Loomis  is  my  friend,  and  he  belongs  to  our 
club.  Whenever  you  play  tricks  on  him  you  get  in 
Dutch  with  all  of  us,  see?" 

Briggen  bit  his  lip  and,  for  a  minute,  he  didn't  an- 
swer. Then  he  said: 

"I  wisht  we  would'a  known  that  sooner,  Hawkins. 
Cross  my  heart,  I  would'a  let  him  alone  if  we'd'a' 
known  that,  even  if  he  did  act  smart  with  us.  But  we 
won't  bother  him  no  more.  Only  save  poor  Ham 
Gardner  from  Harkinson,  and  us  fellas  won't  bother  you 
guys  no  more." 

"Ham?"  I  repeated.  "What  has  Ham  done  to  Har- 
kinson that  he  should — " 

"Ham  ain't  done  nothin.  It's  what  Harkinson's 
done  to  Ham.  Poor  kid,  he  ain't  hisself  no  more.  Ever 
since  last  summer,  when  Harkinson  was  bossin'  us  boys 
on  the  island  up  there,  Ham  ain't  hisself.  He's  afraid 

203 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

o'  his  own  shadda,  Hawkins.  He  peeks  in  everything  he 
passes,  thinkin'  maybe  Harkinson  or  one  o'  his  redcoats 
is  laying  for  him.  And  one  night  last  week  they 
had—" 

Briggen  stopped  and  looked  back  through  the  cur- 
tains. His  face  had  a  scared  look. 

"Hawkins,"  he  said,  "them  Red  Runners  are  queer. 
They  can  make  you  see  ghosts.  I  don't  know  if  all  of 
'em  can,  but  Harkinson  is  a  hypnotizer.  He  made  me  see 
a  spook  right  in  my  own  shack." 

His  voice  was  a  whisper  as  he  leaned  over  the  desk 
and  told  me  this  awful  thing.  I  looked  in  his  eyes  and 
saw  that  he  was  really  in  earnest.  But  then  I  laughed  out 
loud. 

"Go  on,"  I  said.  "Don't  let  him  kid  you  like  that, 
Briggen." 

"You  don't  have  to  believe  me,"  said  Briggen,  "ask 
Ham.  He  saw  it,  too.  I  never  saw  a  ghost  before, 
but  I  know  what  they  look  like  now.  This  sure  was  one, 
Hawkins.  Ham  ain't  been  hisself  since.  And  every 
time  he  hears  that  horn  he  thinks  he  has  to  get  right  up 
and  go.  He  thinks  Harkinson  is  calling  for  him,  and  he 
must  go  and  do  as  he  says.  Now,  tell  me,  Hawkins, 
is  that  a  way  for  a  kid  to  be  ascared  of  a  fella?" 

I  did  not  answer  Briggen  right  away.  I  sat  there 
and  looked  at  him,  while  my  mind  was  busy  thinking. 
It  was  a  cinch  that  neither  Briggen  nor  Ham  Gardner 
ever  found  out  that  it  was  Shadow  Loomis  who  fixed  up 
that  face  in  the  dark  that  looked  out  at  them  when  they 
entered  Briggen's  shack  that  night.  They  figured  out 
that  it  was  Harkinson  alone  who  could  do  such  a  thing, 
and  they  really  believed  that  it  was  a  ghost.  Most  any 
boy  is  afraid  of  anything  that  looks  like  a  ghost,  especially 
when  it  is  such  a  thing  as  a  glowing  face  in  the  dark. 

204 


THE    PELHAMS    IN    TROUBLE 

But  the  Pelhams  are  more  likely  to  believe  in  such 
things  than  other  fellas. 

Just  as  I  was  about  to  say  something  to  Briggen, 
Perry  Stokes  came  quickly  in  the  door.  He  glanced 
once  at  Briggen,  then  he  turned  to  me  and  said: 

"Dick  sent  me  up  to  tell  you  that  the  Red  Runners 
are  here.  Him  and  Lew  Hunter  saw  three  fellas  in  the 
woods  behind  the  cliffs." 

"All  right,  Perry,"  I  said,  "tell  Lew  I'm  coming  right 
down." 

Perry  hurried  out.  Briggen  came  over  and  grabbed 
my  sleeve. 

*They've  come  after  us,  Hawkins,"  he  said.  "They 
won't  bother  you  guys.  I  better  be  going." 

For  one  moment  I  looked  out  the  window.  Then  I 
stood  up  and  held  Briggen's  arm. 

"Wait,"  I  said. 

For  I  had  let  my  thoughts  run  back  to  a  day  last 
summer  at  our  camp  on  the  island.  It  was  a  day  when 
Ham  Gardner  had  done  us  a  good  turn — gave  us  a  tip 
that  Harkinson  and  his  pals  were  going  up  the  river 
to  trap  two  of  our  boys  who  had  gone  to  town  for  grocer- 
ies. It  was  Ham  who  had  saved  those  two  boys  from 
Harkinson's  whip. 

"Go  on  back,  Briggen,"  I  said.  "Go  back  and  tell 
Ham  that  we  never  forget  when  a  fella  does  us  a  good 
turn  or  a  bad  one.  He  will  know  what  I  mean." 

Briggen  left  without  another  word.  I  hurried 
into  my  jacket  and  cap  and  ran  for  the  hollow.  The 
boys  had  all  quit  playing  football.  They  stood  in  a  little 
bunch  over  by  the  trees.  Dick  came  to  meet  me  as 
I  came  up. 

"We  might  catch  a  couple  of  redcoats,  Hawkins," 
205 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

he  said.  "They've  been  spying  on  us  from  trees  behind 
the  cliffs  over  there." 

The  football  was  hidden  safely  in  a  spot  that  Bill 
picked  out,  and  we  trotted  away  up  the  path.  We 
reached  the  top  of  the  bluff  and  stopped  for  breath. 
Dick  pointed  to  the  river.  A  long,  thin  motor  boat 
was  being  paddled  across.  In  it  sat  three  Red  Runners, 
each  wearing  the  red  sweater  which  gave  their  gang  its 
name. 

"Back!"  ordered  Dick.     "Every  one  come  back." 

Back  we  started.  When  we  reached  the  clubhouse 
path,  I  said: 

"Dick,  get  the  boys  up  in  the  clubhouse  as  soon  as 
you  can  and  stay  there.  Jerry  Moore  will  go  with  me 
across  the  river.  You  fellows  all  go  up  and  hold  a  sing- 
ing practice.  And  keep  on  singing  till  we  come  back. 
Will  you  do  it?" 

Sure,  Dick  would  do  it,  and  away  they  went,  while 
Jerry  shoved  off  his  long  canoe,  and  we  paddled  across 
to  Pelham.  There  was  not  a  soul  in  sight  when  we 
landed. 

"Come  on,  Jerry,"  I  said,  and  I  headed  for  Brig- 
gen's  shack.  And  there — 

Harkinson  stood  with  his  arms  folded  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  smiling  at  me.  But  it  was  no  friendly  smile, 
I  can  tell  you  that. 

"You  came,"  he  said.  And  then  he  laughed.  I  did 
not  answer.  I  stood  there  in  the  doorway,  with  Jerry 
Moore  right  in  back  of  me.  In  the  dark  shadows  at  the 
back  wall  of  the  Pelham  leader's  shack  were  the  three 
Red  Runners  we  had  seen  going  across  in  the  boat. 
There  was  hardly  any  light  in  the  shack,  but  you  don't 
need  any  light  to  see  those  shining  eyes  of  Harkinson. 
His  low  laugh  got  on  my  nerves.  I  tried  to  talk,  but 

206 


HARKINSON  STOOP  WITH  His  ARMS 

'  \  AM  tqLAV  TO  SEE  YOU, 

HE  5AiP  IM  A  MocKmq 


207 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

somehow,  maybe  I  was  scared,  I  don't  know — but  some- 
how I  couldn't  take  my  eyes  away  from  his. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mister  Seckatary,"  he  said,  in 
a  mocking  voice.  "I  thought  maybe  I  could  get  you 
over  here  by  sending  some  of  my  boys  across.  I  knew 
you  would  follow  them.  I  didn't  make  much  of  a  mis- 
take about  that.  Sit  down." 

He  just  said  that  in  a  commanding  tone,  and  it  made 
me  mad.  I  tried  to  say  No,  but  I  just  couldn't. 
Jerry  already  had  taken  one  of  the  low  stools.  I  found 
myself  doing  the  same  thing. 

"Now,"  said  Harkinson,  "talk." 

"You  won't  get  away  from  here,"  I  said.  "The 
Sheriff  of  Watertown  wants  you  and  all  your  redcoats. 
And  I  have  my  boys  ready  to  get  you  just  as  soon  as  you 
leave  this  shack." 

Harkinson  smiled.  "You  don't  always  tell  the  truth," 
he  said,  "because  I  know  different.  Your  boys  all  went 
up  into  the  clubhouse.  We  saw  them  through  the  blind — 
you  see,  there  is  a  nice  peephole  there.  And  before  you 
could  get  them  down  here,  why,  I'd  be  on  my  way  so 
far  you  slow  pokes  could  never  catch  up  with  me.  Any- 
thing else  you  want  to  say  before  you  get  your  punch 
in  the  eye."  Before  I  could  answer  Jerry  Moore  jumped 
up. 

"I  got  one  thing  to  say,  Harkinson,"  he  said,  "and 
that  is  that  you  are  not  big  enough  to  punch  me  or  any 
of  us  boys  in  the  eye.  What  do  you  think  about 
that?" 

Harkinson  turned  suddenly  upon  Jerry. 

"Oho,"  he  laughed,  "listen  to  Clumsyfoot,  here. 
How  he  can  blow.  Well,  here." 

Without  giving  Jerry  a  chance  the  big  bully  punched 
him  square  in  the  eye.  Jerry  tumbled  off  his  stool 

208 


THE    PELHAMS    IN    TROUBLE 

before  he  could  raise  his  arms  to  help  himself.  I  quickly 
turned  my  eyes  away  and  helped  Jerry  to  his  feet. 

"You're  a  coward,"  I  cried.  "Why  don't  you  fight 
fair?  Maybe  you  don't  know  what  that  is." 

"All  right,  boys,"  said  Harkinson  to  the  three  Red 
Runners  who  stood  against  the  wall,  "keep  those  two 
here  till  dark.  Long  Tom  will  come  with  the  boat  and 
take  them  up  to  our  headquarters.  See  how  they  like  our 
place.  What's  that?" 

Across  the  river  had  come  the  strains  of  "The  Boat- 
man's Song" — our  boys  were  starting  their  singing  prac- 
tice. And  how  fine  it  sounded — all  those  boy  voices  in 
harmony,  with  the  swelling  tones  of  the  organ — ah,  boy ! 
Harkinson  shoved  us  aside  and  walked  out  the  door 
and  stood  there  looking  at  our  clubhouse  from  where  the 
singing  came.  He  had  a  different  look  on  his  face  while 
he  listened  to  the  singing. 

It  gave  Jerry  the  chance.  He  leaped  through  the 
door  and  landed  on  the  shoulders  of  the  big  bully,  and 
I  saw  them  go  down  in  the  dust  together.  Quick  as  a 
wink  I  darted  through  the  door  and  pulled  it  shut, 
just  as  the  three  Red  Runners  sprang  for  me.  A  chain 
latch  hung  on  the  outside,  and  I  linked  it  on  the  staple 
and  slipped  the  bolt  in  quick.  The  three  fellows  inside 
began  pounding  on  the  door,  but  I  turned  and  ran  to 
help  Jerry. 

I  saw  them  halfway  down  the  bank,  rolling  over  and 
over  toward  the  water. 

"Jerry,"  I  yelled,  "let  him  go,  do  you  want  to  get 
drowned?" 

Then  I  saw  Harkinson  leap  up,  free,  and,  with  a  last 
kick  at  Jerry,  he  turned  for  the  upper  bank,  and  ran 
like  a  deer.  I  hurried  to  help  Jerry,  and  got  him  on  his 
feet. 

14  209 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

'Good  Lord,  Hawkins,"  be  whispered,  "that  fella's 
a  bear — he  nearly  squeezed  me  to  death — where'd  he 
go?" 

"There,"  I  said,  pointing,  but  Harkinson  had  dis- 
appeared in  the  woods  away  from  the  water. 

"What's  happened,  Hawkins?"  called  some  one, 
and  we  turned  and  saw  Briggen  and  Hamj  Gardner  and 
Dave  Burns  running  down  the  Pelham  bank. 

"Plenty,"  I  answered;  "it's  a  good  thing  you  fellas 
weren't  around.  They  were  in  your  shack,  Briggen. 
Harkinson  and  three  Red  Runners." 

Briggen  frowned,  and  I  saw  Ham  Gardner  turn  pale. 
"Is  he  gone?"  asked  Briggen  in  a  whisper. 

"Yes,"  I  said;  but  three  of  his  redcoats  are  in  there — 
prisoners.  I  latched  your  door — " 

Clear  came  the  call  from  the  woods  on  the  upper 
bank — the  sound  of  the  brass  horn — Harkinson  calling 
for  his  Red  Runners. 

"Ha-ha!"  I  laughed.  "He  wants  his  three  pals  to  come, 
but  I  guess  they  won't  answer  the  call  of  the  old  horn 
this  time,  Jerry,  what?" 

But  then  something  happened  that  I  never  will  for- 
get. No,  sir!  I  never  saw  any  boys  do  it  before,  and 
never  will  see  it  again.  Only  Red  Runners  would  be 
game  enough  to  try  such  a  thing.  There  came  the  crash 
of  breaking  glass,  and  a  chair  was  shoved  through  the 
window  of  Briggen's  shack.  Before  we  knew  what  was 
happening,  the  whole  window  fell  out  in  pieces,  and  we 
saw  three  silent,  red-coated  figures  leap  through  that 
opening  like  cats.  We  were  too  surprised  to  move,  and, 
by  the  time  Briggen  shouted  "Stop  'em,  fellas!"  they 
had  sped  past  us  like  the  wind  and  headed  for  the  woods. 
The  sound  of  the  horn  rang  out  again,  and  it  seemed 

210 


THE    PELHAMS    IN    TROUBLE 

to  make  them  hurry.  Some  of  the  Pelhams  started  after 
them,  but  they  saw  it  was  too  late,  and  they  gave  it  up. 

"Good-night!"  I  said,  "they  sure  do  get  up  and  go 
when  they  hear  that  horn,  Jerry.  Who  would  have 
thought—" 

"There  goes  Ham!"  yelled  Briggen.  "Hold  him, 
fellas!  Hold  him." 

But  Ham  was  gone.  In  to  the  woods  he  ran,  and  was 
gone  before  any  of  the  Pelham  boys  could  get  to  him. 
All  of  them,  led  by  Briggen,  shot  away  in  to  the  woods 
after  him. 

"Poor  kid,"  I  said,  "the  old  hypnotizer's  got  him 
scared  silly,  Jerry.  He  gets  so  excited  when  he  hears 
that  horn  he  thinks  he  has  to  run  to  it.  I  hope  Harkin- 
son  won't  be  waiting." 

"They're  big  enough  to  take  care  of  themselves," 
grumbled  Jerry. 

I  turned  and  looked  at  him  and  I  had  to  smile.  He 
was  looking  at  me  out  of  only  one  eye;  the  other  one, 
which  Harkinson  had  punched  was  blue  and  swollen, 
and  half  closed. 

"Jerry,"  I  said,  "do  you  think  we  should  follow  the 
Pelhams  and  see  if  they  catch  Ham?" 

"Ham,  nothin',"  growled  Jerry.  "It's  raw  beef  we 
want,  Hawkins,  to  put  on  my  eye.  Let's  go  up  to  the 
butcher  shop  and  get  a  piece  right  away." 

Which  we  did. 


211 


XXI 

The  Canary 

I'VE  got  an  idea,"  said  Bill  Darby. 
"Hooray!"  shouted  Jerry  Moore.  "It's  the  first 
one  you  ever  had,  Bill." 

We  had  been  talking  about  getting  off  from  school 
for  a  day  to  go  and  gather  beech  nuts. 

"Let's  hear  what  Bill  has  to  say,"  said  our  Captain, 
hitting  the  table  with  his  wooden  hammer.  "And  you, 
Jerry,  keep  your  mouth  shut  till  somebody  asks  you 
something." 

If  it  had  been  anybody  else  but  our  Captain  saying 
that  Jerry  would  have  been  up  on  his  feet  ready  to  fight. 
But  he  knows  we  all  have  to  do  what  the  Captain  says, 
and  so  he  stayed  quiet. 

"Here  it  is,"  said  Bill,  "and  it's  a  pippin'.  You 
all  know  our  teacher's  got  a  birthday  this  week.  He 
ought  to  let  us  have  a  holiday  on  account  of  that,  but 
will  he?  Not  much.  He  ain't  gonna  advertise  it  that 
way.  He  won't  say  a  word  about  it  being  his  birthday." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Johnny  McLarren,  "he  doesn't 
care  who  knows  what  day  his  birthday  is." 

"No,"  said  Bill,  "he  won't  say  a  word  about  it  to 
anybody." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "seems  to  me,  Bill,  that  if  he  doesn't 
say  anything  about  it  we  are  likely  to  go  to  school  on 
that  day  the  same  as  other  days." 

"Yeah,"  said  Bill,  "but  that  ain't  my  idea.  You 
fellas  ain't  give  me  time  to  tell  you  what  I  had  on  my 
mind." 

212 


THE    CANARY 

"Well,  go  ahead,  and  say  it  out  loud,"  broke  in 
Jerry  Moore;  "you're  talkin'  a  whole  lot  without  say  in' 
much." 

"Just  this,"  said  Bill.  "If  he  won't  tell  us  it's  his 
birthday,  we'll  tell  him.  We  will  all  chip  in  a  dime  or 
two  and  buy  him  a  present.  Then,  when  the  day  comes, 
hand  him  the  present,  and  if  he's  a  fine  fella,  he'll  say: 
'Boys,  take  a  holiday  on  me.' ' 

"Sounds  all  right,"  said  Jerry,  "if  it  will  work." 

Sure  it  would  work.  All  the  boys  thought  so  as  soon 
as  they  heard  Bill  suggest  it.  Our  Captain  told  us  it 
would  work,  and  so  he  gave  orders  for  each  boy  to  chip 
in  and  make  a  sum  of  money  to  buy  a  present  with. 

The  next  thing  to  do  was  to  figure  out  what  would 
be  the  best  thing  to  give  him  for  a  present.  Every  fellow 
in  the  clubhouse  thought  of  something  different,  but 
it  was  Bill  Darby  who  had  the  right  thing  in  mind.  In 
fact,  I  think  Bill  must  have  been  thinking  of  this  for  a 
long  time. 

"A  bird,"  he  said;  "a  nice  yella  canary  bird  in  a 
fancy  cage.  It'll  cost  a  little  more  than  something  you 
fellas  thought  of,  but  what's  the  diff?  He  likes  birds." 

"Aw,  forget  it,"  said  Jerry  Moore.  "Why,  he's 
got  four  canary  birds  now  in  his  house." 

"Sure,"  said  Bill,  "that's  a  sign  he  likes  'em  better'n 
anything  else." 

"Bill's  about  right,"  said  our  Captain;  "a  canary 
would  just  about  do." 

And  so  it  was  that  we  started  out  to  buy  a  canary 
bird.  We  all  had  to  chip  in  fifteen  cents  more,  but  what's 
fifteen  cents  when  you  buy  a  fellow  a  birthday  present? 
Nothing.  So  out  we  went  to  old  Hiram's  place  and 
looked  over  the  birds  he  had.  He  raises  rabbits  and 
pigeons  and  squirrels  and  dogs  and  everything.  He  had 

213 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

some  fine  birds  there  for  a  fancy  price,  but  we  couldn't 
pay  so  high.  So  I  told  old  Hiram  what  we  wanted  to 
do  with  the  bird  and  he  kind  o'  likes  us  boys,  and  he 
chuckled  and  patted  me  on  the  back,  and  said:  "If 
that's  it,  I  give  you  something  nice,  bird  and  cage;  how's 
that?" 

"Fine,"  I  said;  "let's  see  it." 

He  took  us  over  to  a  corner  where  there  hung  a  little 
wire  bird  cage  with  a  bird  in  it.  It  was  only  a  part  yel- 
low bird :  had  some  black  on  its  beak,  and  the  tips  of  the 
wings  are  black.  But  Hiram  said  it  would  sing  some 
day,  anyhow.  So  we  took  it  and  gave  Hiram  all  the 
money  we  had  collected  for  it.  He  didn't  even  count  it; 
shoved  it  in  his  pocket  without  looking  at  it.  That  shows 
that  he  was  treating  us  good,  anyhow. 

Now,  it  was  two  days  yet  until  the  teacher's  birth- 
day. So  we  took  the  bird  and  cage  back  to  the  club- 
house and  decided  it  was  best  to  leave  it  there.  Perry 
Stokes  was  appointed  keeper  of  the  bird  until  the  day 
he  would  present  it  to  the  teacher.  He  was  to  feed  it 
and  see  that  it  didn't  get  hurt.  We  ought  to  have  known 
better  than  to  let  Perry  have  that  job.  But  it's  too  late 
to  talk  about  that  now. 

All  this  week  we  had  been  very  peaceful;  Pelham  had 
not  started  anything,  and  had  stayed  over  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  As  for  the  Red  Runners,  it  must  have 
been  that  Shadow  Loomis  and  Robby  Hood  were  keep- 
ing them  busy  up  in  Watertown,  for  we  didn't  have  a 
visit  from  Shadow  or  Robby,  and  for  many  days  we  had 
not  seen  any  of  Harkinson's  band  of  redcoats — had  not 
even  heard  the  sound  of  the  hypnotizer's  horn  around 
our  river  bank. 

"Too  good  to  last  long,"  said  Jerry  Moore  to  me; 
"something's  coming  off  pretty  soon,  remember  those 

214 


THE    CANARY 

words,  Hawkins.    Long  Tom  and  his  pals  are  hatching 
something." 

I  felt  that  way  myself,  but  I  didn't  think  it  would  do 
any  good  to  tell  the  fellows.  So  I  said  to  Dick  Ferris: 

"May  be  it  would  be  better  not  to  keep  the  bird 
in  the  clubhouse.  Suppose  the  Red  Runners  take  a 
notion  to  break  hi  some  night — " 

But  Dick  shook  his  head  and  the  canary  stayed  in  the 
clubhouse,  on  top  of  the  cupboard,  and  was  not  bothered 
at  all.  Perry  Stokes  got  to  love  that  bird,  I  think.  He  is 
a  kind-hearted  kid.  Takes  a  fancy  to  animals  and  birds. 
We  had  to  yell  at  him  a  couple  of  times  to  stop  pouring 
birdseed  into  the  cage.  Why,  if  that  yellow  bird  ate  all 
the  food  Perry  Stokes  shoved  into  that  cage,  it  would 
have  been  as  big  as  an  eagle  by  this  tune.  But  Perry 
said  it  was  better  than  not  putting  enough  in,  and  we 
couldn't  say  he  was  wrong  about  that. 

Now,  the  day  before  the  birthday,  I  came  down  to 
the  clubhouse  right  after  school.  I  thought  I'd  be  the 
first  one  there,  but  I  saw  the  door  open,  and  so  I  walked 
up  easy  and  peeped  in.  Perry  Stokes  was  there  ahead  of 
me.  He  was  feeding  the  bird — pouring  a  cupful  of  bird- 
seed into  the  cage.  I  stood  and  watched  him.  He  put 
down  the  cup  and,  stooping  down  with  his  hands  on  his 
knees,  began  to  talk  to  the  bird. 

"Poor  liT  fella,"  he  said;  "poor  liT  dickybird,  what'd 
you  ever  do  to  get  put  in  jail  like  that  for,  huh?" 

"Hello,  Perry,"  I  said.  "Always  on  the  job,  aren't 
you,  kid?" 

"Oh,  Hawkins,"  he  said,  turning  quickly,  "you  scared 
me,  sir.  Thought  I  was  all  alone  here — just  me  and  the 
bird,  sir." 

"How  many  times  must  I  tell  you  to  cut  out  that 
'sir'  when  you  talk  to  me,  Perry?" 

215 


THE   RED   RUNNERS 

He  grinned  at  me. 

"Oh,  I  forget,  Hawkins,"  he  said;  "but  it  will  stop, 
sir,  I  promise  you  that." 

"You've  been  very  kind  to  that  bird,  Perry." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  think  he  likes  me.  I've  grown  to  like 
him,  too.  I'm  sorry  he  won't  be  here  after  to-night, 
sir.  The  birthday  is  to-morrow.  He  will  go  up  to  the 
teacher's  house  then,  and  hang  in  his  little  cage  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  And  it's  a  gloomy  place,  sir,  that  room 
o'  Brother  Jim's — 'tain't  no  place  for  a  first-class  bird  to 
live  his  whole  life,  Hawkins." 

"Ah,  well,"  I  said,  "it  has  to  be,  Perry,  I  guess." 

'  That  night  we  took  the  bird  up  to  the  schoolhouse 

and  climbed  through  a  window.    We  put  the  cage  back 

in  the  corner  behind  the  last  bench  in  the  schoolroom, 

and  Bill  Darby  covered  it  with  a  cloth  he  had  brought. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "if  you  cover  the  cage  with 
a  cloth  nothing  will  bother  the  bird  or  scare  it.  So,  when 
we  all  come  to  school  in  the  morning,  nobody  will  notice 
anything  covered  up  back  here  in  the  corner.  Perry, 
have  you  fed  it  for  the  night?" 

"I'll  say  he  has,"  said  I,  laughing.  "I  saw  him  dump 
a  load  of  bird  seed  in." 

"All  right,  then,"  said  Dick  Ferris,  "come  on,  fellas, 
skin  out  o'  here  before  somebody  comes  and  gives  us 
the  dickens  for  breaking  in  at  night." 

As  we  were  going  home  we  heard  the  far-off  sound  of 
Harkinson's  horn.  "Ah,"  I  said,  "it's  lucky  we  did  not 
leave  the  bird  in  the  clubhouse  another  night.  I  bet 
you  ten  dollars  the  Red  Runners  break  into  our  club- 
house to-night,  Jerry." 

"Go  on,"  growled  Jerry,  "you  ain't  got  ten  dollars." 

Next  morning,  bright  and  early,  I  hurried  to  the 
216 


THE   CANARY 

schoolhouse.  We  had  planned  to  get  there  ahead  of 
our  teacher,  but  just  as  I  started  up  the  steps  Bill 
Darby  came  slipping  out. 

"Brother  Jim's  here  already,"  he  whispered.  "Gee 
whiz,  Hawkins,  I  thought  we  would  have  plenty  of  time 
to  get  things  fixed  before  he  came." 

"Gosh,  so  did  I,"  I  said.    "Do  you  think  he  knows?" 

"No,"  answered  Bill;  "none  of  us  let  on.  We  all 
went  right  to  our  seats.  I  glanced  at  the  corner  and  saw 
the  cage  covered  with  the  cloth  just  as  we  left  it  last 
night." 

"Fine,"  I  said.  "Do  you  know  your  speech  by  heart, 
Bill?" 

"Every  word,"  answered  Bill.     "Want  to  hear  it?" 

"No,  save  it,"  I  said.  "I'll  hear  you  when  you  hand 
him  the  present.  Now,  listen,  Bill,  you  got  to  act  quick, 
see?  Just  as  soon  as  you  and  I  get  in  you  rush  back  and 
get  the  cage  while  I  say  good  mornin'  and  talk  to  Brother 
Jim.  Then  you  come  back  and  say  your  speech  and  hand 
it  to  him.  Keep  it  covered,  see,  till  you  say  'we  give  you 
this  token.'  Don't  forget,  now." 

"Oh,  I  got  it  all  down  pat,"  said  Bill.  "You  just  leave 
it  to  me." 

Bill  and  I  walked  into  the  schoolroom.  All  the  other 
boys  were  in  their  seats,  and  they  looked  up  with  smiling 
faces  as  we  entered. 

"Good  morning,  teacher,"  I  said,  as  Bill  dodged 
behind  me  and  shot  for  the  cage. 

"Late  again,  Hawkins,"  said  Brother  Jim,  "as  usual. 
What  makes  you  sleep  so  long,  anyway?" 

But  he  was  smiling,  and  I  kind  o'  thought  he  was  re- 
membering it  was  his  birthday  and  didn't  want  to  look 
cross  on  this  particular  day.  Before  I  could  answer 
him,  Bill  Darby  had  come  back  with  the  cage  still 

217 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

covered  with  the  cloth.  I  stepped  aside.  Bill,  holding 
the  cage  behind  his  back,  walked  up  in  front  of  the 
teacher's  desk  and  began  his  speech.  All  the  boys 
stood  up  in  their  places.  Brother  Jim  sat  staring  at 
him  while  he  talked,  as  though  it  were  a  big  surprise. 
I  guess  he  didn't  know  what  was  coming  off. 

" — And  this,"  Bill  was  saying,  "this  here,  Brother 
Jim,  is  just  a  little  token  from  us  boys  for  your  birth- 
day-- 
He jerked  the  cloth  from  the  cage  and  held  it  up. 
The  teacher  gazed  at  it,  and  I  saw  a  smile  curve  around 
his  lips — I  heard  some  fella  giggle  behind  me — I  knew 
something  was  wrong — 

"Golly  Moses,"  I  said  to  myself,  "the  cage  is  empty!" 
Oh,  boy!   There  was  Bill  presenting  the  teacher  with 
an  empty  bird  cage  for  a  token.     Can  you  beat  it?    I 
stepped  up  quick. 

"Excuse  me,"  I  said,  "maybe — " 
But  Brother  Jim  cut  me  short. 
"My  dear  boys,"  he  was  saying,  "how  can  I  thank 
you?    It's  just  like  you — and  I  want  to  thank  you  for 
such  a  beautiful  cage.     I  was  thinking  about  getting 
another  bird,  and  here  is  the  cage  all  ready  for  it." 

How  we  all  got  back  to  our  seats  I  don't  know.  My 
head  was  dizzy.  The  whole  thing  was  bungled.  Sure 
enough,  Brother  Jim  knew  that  it  wasn't  an  empty 
cage  we  intended  to  give  him.  He  could  tell  by  the  bird 
seed  and  the  dirt  on  the  bottom  of  the  cage.  But  he 
didn't  let  on.  Not  him.  That's  just  the  kind  of  a  fel- 
low he  was.  No;  he  smiled  and  bowed  back  at  Bill,  and 
said  "Thanks"  like  as  if  we  had  given  him  a  fine  thing. 
"Boys,"  he  said,  "it  wouldn't  be  in  keeping  with  the 
spirit  of  this  kindly  show  of  your  regard  for  me  if  we 
did  not  in  some  way  acknowledge  the  same.  And  I 

218 


219 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

am  sure  the  Board  of  Trustees  would  not  mind  if  we  de- 
clared this  one  day  a  holiday — suppose  you  put  your 
books  away  and  run  along  and  have  a  little  fun." 

It  worked.  Sure  it  worked.  But  none  of  us  felt 
right  about  it.  We  thanked  him  with  a  cheery  shout. 
We  shook  his  hand  as  we  filed  out  the  door.  And  then 
we  gathered  at  the  clubhouse  and  sat  around  the  table 
and  talked  it  over. 

"How  on  earth,"  said  our  Captain,  "did  it  happen? 
How  did  that  bird  escape?  Why,  didn't  you  notice  it, 
Bill,  before  you  went  up  and  shoved  that  empty  bird 
cage  over  to  him?" 

"How  was  I  to  know?"  cried  Bill,  and  he  was  ready 
to  cry.  Oh,  boy!  Bill  felt  awful  about  it.  But  Jerry 
sized  it  up.  He  pounded  his  fist  on  the  table  and  stood 
up. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  "I  bet  you  ten  dollars  the  Red  Run- 
ners followed  us  last  night  and  saw  us  put  that  bird  in 
the  schoolhouse." 

"Go  on,"  I  said,  "you  ain't  got  ten  dollars." 

After  all,  what  did  it  matter?  Brother  Jim  acted  like 
he  appreciated  the  cage.  And  it  got  us  the  holiday.  And 
outside  I  heard  the  boys  yelling  and  scrambling  over  a 
game  of  snatch-grab  football.  I  sat  down  at  my  desk 
hi  my  little  office  and  began  to  write  about  it.  Just  as 
I  started  there  came  the  sound  of  the  door  opening. 
Perry  Stokes  came  in. 

"Ah,  Perry,"  I  said,  "don't  you  like  to  play  snatch- 
grab  football?  Go  on,  get  out  and  let  me  write  in  peace." 

"I  want  to  say  something,  Hawkins,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice;  he  had  a  troubled  look  on  his  face.  It  was  a  look 
that  I  liked  to  see  there,  though.  It  always  meant  that 
Perry  would  do  the  best  he  could. 

220 


THE    CANARY 

"Shoot!"  I  said. 

"It's  about  the  bird,  sir." 

"Have  you  found  it,  Perry?" 

"No,  sir;  I  let  it  get  away.  It  was  me  down  in  the 
schoolhouse  first  this  morning,  before  anybody  got  there. 
I  had  to  see  that  little  yella  friend  once  more,  sir.  Him 
and  me  got  to  be  chums,  as  you  would  say.  I  hated  to 
think  o'  him  going  up  into  Brother  Jim's  darkened  room, 
sir,  where  the  other  birds  sing.  Seems  like  birds  ought 
to  be  in  the  air,  Hawkins,  where  God  made  'em  to  be. 
But,  honest  I  did  not  mean  to  let  him  get  away.  He 
looked  so  mournful.  I  says  to  him :  'Only  a  few  minutes 
till  you  go  to  jail  for  life,'  and  I  opened  the  door  and  held 
him  on  my  thumb  like  I  always  did  down  here  in  the 
clubhouse — " 

"What!"  I  interrupted.  "You  mean  to  say  you  had 
that  canary  bird  out  loose  in  this  clubhouse?" 

"Beggin'  your  pardon,  I  did,  sir,  once  or  twice.  He 
seemed  so  friendly;  he  never  tried  to  fly  away.  He  would 
always  come  back  to  the  cage.  But,  somehow,  some- 
thing went  wrong  with  him  in  the  schoolroom  this  morn- 
ing, sir.  As  soon  as  he  was  out  he  looked  up  at  the  win- 
dow; it  was  open  at  the  top,  as  the  teacher  orders,  and 
he  didn't  say  good-bye — " 

"Just  flew  out  of  the  window,  eh,  Perry?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  was  gone.  I  was  afraid  of  Jerry  and 
Bill,  Hawkins.  I  couldn't  tell  'em  I  did  it.  You  know, 
they  don't  like  me  very  well.  I  hope  you  won't  mention 
it  to  a  soul,  Hawkins." 

I  slammed  my  book  shut  and  hammered  the  stopper 
on  my  ink  bottle. 

"Come  on,"  I  said,  "let's  go  and  join  that  game  of 
snatch-grab — and  forget  about  the  canary." 

Which  we  did. 

221 


XXII 

The  Hidden  Houseboat 

THE  game  of  snatch-grab  did  not  last  long.  A 
steamboat  whistle  broke  it  up  and  all  the  fellows 
ran  for  the  river  to  watch  the  Hudson  Lee  go  past. 
We  all  knew  it  was  the  Hudon  Lee.  It  has  the  lowest- 
tone  whistle  and  the  loudest  of  all  the  steamers  that  ever 
passed  our  town.  And  the  Hudson  Lee  always  brought 
back  happy  memories  to  us  boys,  memories  of  good  times 
with  the  boy  after  whom  this  handsome  steamer  was 
named,  and  his  pretty  little  sister  Rosalind.  Their 
father,  Captain  Lee,  was  on  the  bridge  as  she  sailed  by, 
and  he  called  to  us  and  waved  his  hand.  We  gave  him 
a  cheer,  and  then  sat  down  to  watch  until  the  big  boat 
turned  the  upper  bend  toward  Watertown. 

We  sat  on  the  bank  there,  after  the  boat  was  out  of 
sight,  and  talked  over  old  times. 

"If  we  are  going  after  nuts,"  spoke  up  Jerry  Moore, 
"we  better  get  a  move  on.  What's  the  use  sittin'  here 
chewin'  the  rag?" 

"I  know  where  you  can  get  some  fine  beech  nuts," 
said  Roy  Dobel,  "right  past  my  father's  place.  There's 
a  bunch  of  beeches  there." 

So  we  all  started,  keeping  well  under  cover  of  the 
trees  so  that,  while  we  could  see  anything  passing  on 
the  river,  we  could  not  easily  be  seen  ourselves.  For 
we  did  not  care  to  run  into  Pelhams  or  Red  Runners  to- 
day. It  was  a  holiday,  and  we  wanted  to  have  a  little 
fun.  I  knew  that  Shadow  Loomis  and  Robby  Hood 
would  be  at  their  schools  in  Watertown,  and  would  not 

222 


THE    HIDDEN    HOUSEBOAT 

be  able  to  get  down  to  our  clubhouse  much  before  four 
o'clock,  so  we  had  plenty  of  time  to  get  a  sackful  of 
nuts  and  be  back  at  the  clubhouse  in  time  for  our  reg- 
ular meeting. 

Dobel's  farm  is  not  very  far  from  our  place  on  the 
river  bank.  A  short  walk  around  the  base  of  the  cliffs, 
and  then  about  a  half  mile,  and  there  is  Dobel's.  And 
it  wasn't  five  minutes  more  until  we  could  see  the  beeches. 
We  arrived  at  our  nut-picking  place  before  we  knew  it. 
We  got  to  work  at  once,  and  soon  had  a  nice  pile  of 
beech  nuts.  They  are  funny-looking  little  nuts,  but 
sweet — oh,  boy,  you  can't  give  me  a  nut  half  as  good 
as  a  beech  nut.  When  you  taste  those  little  kernels, 
you  know  the  truth  in  the  old  saying  that  good  things 
come  in  small  packages.  Same  way  with  Little  Frankie 
Kane.  He  was  the  smallest  kid  that  ever  belonged  to 
our  bunch,  but  he  was  always  the  nicest,  friendliest 
little  kid  we  ever  knew.  We  wish  he  was  still  a  member 
of  our  club.  But  best  of  friends  must  part. 

When  we  were  ready  to  go  back,  we  found  that 
Perry  Stokes  was  gone.  "Where  did  he  go?"  asked 
our  captain;  "by  golly,  Hawkins,  I  feel  like  firing  that 
kid,  he  always  ducks  out  when  he  feels  like  it  without 
telling  us  where  he  is  going." 

"Hush  up,"  I  said  in  a  low  voice,  "don't  let  him  hear 
you  say  that;  here  he  comes  on  a  run." 

Perry  came  running  up  all  out  of  breath. 

"Dick,"  he  said,  "the  Red  Runners  are  coming — just 
turned  the  bend  above  in  a  long  boat." 

"We  better  take  a  look,"  said  Dick;  "Hawkins,  see 
if  you  can  get  our  fellows  in  line  and  make  them  stay  in 
line.  Maybe  we  can  get  by  better  if  we  have  some  order." 

I  quickly  got  the  fellows  in  line,  two  by  two,  and  then 
Dick  and  I  led  the  way  through  the  trees  to  a  point 

223 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

overlooking  the  river.  The  long  boat  of  the  Red  Run- 
ners was  coming  fast,  and  well  it  might,  for  it  was  being 
rowed  by  twenty  oars,  ten  fellows  rowing,  one  sitting 
hi  front  giving  orders  to  the  rowers,  and  another  sitting 
in  the  stern  at  the  rudder.  What  a  sight  that  was!  I 
never  saw  a  boat  as  long  as  that  on  our  river.  Before  we 
realized  it  they  were  speeding  past  us,  their  boat  cutting 
the  water  like  a  knife  and  leaving  a  long  trail  behind. 
The  fellow  in  the  front  seat,  who  was  facing  the  rowers, 
held  his  hand  alongside  his  mouth  and  kept  saying  in  a 
slow,  sing-song  voice:  "One,  two,  one,  two,"  and  every 
time  he  said  "two,"  those  oars  struck  the  water  with 
one  single  sound — it  was  like  a  big  machine  pushing 
that  boat;  no  wonder  they  went  so  fast.  Before  we 
got  through  wondering  about  it,  they  turned  out  of 
sight  around  another  crook  in  the  old  twisting  river. 

"Good-night,"  I  said,  "think  of  that,  Dick.  No 
wonder  the  Red  Runners  can  do  so  many  things  and 
get  away  with  it." 

"Did  you  notice  the  numbers  on  their  sleeves  ?"asked 
Jerry  Moore. 

"They're  all  numbered,"  broke  hi  Perry  Stokes. 
"Each  one  has  the  number  of  his  importance.  Didn't 
you  see  Lasky  with  a  seven  on  his  sleeve?  He's  seventh 
in  line." 

"I  didn't  see  No.  1  or  2,"  said  Jerry.  "That  fellow 
doing  the  counting  had  No.  3  on  his  arm." 

"Get  back  again,"  I  said,  "here  comes  the  rest  of 
the  parade." 

For  I  had  seen  another  boat  coming  from  above. 
It  was  the  long,  thin  launch,  and  in  it  sat  two  Red  Run- 
ners. We  backed  again  into  the  cover  of  the  trees. 
It  took  this  second  boat  longer  to  make  the  route,  for 
they  were  paddling  canoe  fashion.  But  when  they  passed 

224 


THE    HIDDEN    HOUSEBOAT 

us,  I  recognized  those  two  figures.  The  one  in  front 
was  Long  Tom,  and  behind  him  was  the  old  hypnotizer, 
Harkinson.  They  wore  the  same  kind  of  sweater  and 
cap  as  the  other  Red  Runners.  I  wondered  then  why 
it  was  that  they  did  not  wear  their  broad-brim  hats  and 
long  coats.  But  I  afterward  learned  that  they  wore  the 
sweater  and  cap  in  the  day,  and  the  other  costume  in  the 
night-time. 

"Yeah,"  whispered  Jerry  Moore,  "No.  1  and  No.  2. 
Hot  dog,  some  class." 

"Hawkins,"  said  Dick,  "they're  bound  for  the  island." 

"I  know  it,"  I  said. 

"Will  we  take  a  look  and  see  what  they're  up  to?" 
asked  Dick. 

"Sure,"  said  Jerry  Moore,  "come  on  back  and  get 
our  canoes.  We  might  get  a  chance  to  trap  the  whole 
bunch  of  'em  in  the  log  house.  Then  we  will  come  up 
and  get  the  Sheriff  and  it's  good  night  Red  Runners." 

"Don't  count  your  chickens,"  I  said;  "it'll  be  a  little 
risky  going  up  there  when  we  know  they  have  fourteen 
Red  Runners  to  fight  if  we  are  seen." 

"Anybody  afraid  doesn't  have  to  go,"  said  Dick. 

"Last  one  home's  a  nigger,"  shouted  Jerry,  and  that 
settled  it,  for  he  started  running  and  all  us  boys  ran  after 
him.  We  were  out  of  breath  when  we  reached  our 
clubhouse  and  made  hurriedly  for  our  canoes  and  got 
them  over  into  the  river.  Soon  we  were  on  our  way. 

Seven  Willows  Island  is  full  of  beautiful  trees; 
trees,  some  of  them,  that  don't  lose  their  leaves  till  real 
winter  is  upon  them.  And  it  was  a  beautiful  sight 
with  its  copper-colored  forest,  its  thick  tangle  of  under- 
growth that  stretched  from  the  edge  of  our  old  camping 
ground  clear  across  the  middle  of  the  island.  Plenty  of 
chance  for  the  whole  Red  Runner  army  to  be  hiding, 

13  225 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

waiting  for  us,  thought  I.  Yet  I  reasoned  that  they 
could  not  know  that  we  had  followed  them.  We  could 
see  nothing  of  their  boats.  We  did  not  even  know 
whether  or  not  they  had  landed  there.  But  we  ran  our 
canoes  into  the  mud  at  our  old  summer  camping  place, 
and  then  hurried  into  the  thicket.  Here  we  halted, 
and  waited  for  our  captain  to  give  us  orders. 

"We  will  stay  close  together,"  said  Dick;  'let  no 
one  stray  away  from  the  crowd,  now.  If  you  do,  you'll 
know  what  to  expect.  We  can't  come  to  help  you  if  you 
fall  into  their  hands,  because  they're  too  many  for 
us." 

Suddenly  there  came  a  sound  to  our  ears.  The  Red 
Runners  were  on  the  island.  The  sound  of  Harkinson's 
old  horn  gave  us  that  information.  It  came  again; 
two  calls  on  the  horn,  and  I  had  heard  it  often  enough  to 
know  that  two  blasts  was  a  call  for  the  scattered  red- 
coats to  come  in. 

"Steady,"  I  said,  "boys,  keep  your  eyes  open  and 
walk  slow.  The  Red  Runners  are  scattered  and  there 
may  be  some  right  around  us." 

"Then  let's  strike  out  and  catch  as  many  as  we  can," 
suggested  Jerry  Moore. 

"Nothing  doing,"  broke  in  Dick  sharply;  "come 
ahead,  I  lead  the  way;  you  fellows  follow;  Hawkins,  you 
bring  up  the  rear  and  keep  your  eyes  peeled  for  any- 
body in  back.  We  will  just  spy  around  a  bit." 

Dick  struck  out  to  the  left,  away  from  the  point  where 
the  sound  of  the  horn  had  come.  It  was  tough  going; 
through  the  wildest  kind  of  dried-up  vines  and  bushes, 
some  full  of  thorns,  that  made  our  fellows  squeal  at 
times  as  they  rubbed  a  scratched  hand  or  jerked  a  loose 
thorn  out  of  their  shins.  We  had  walked  for  about  ten 
minutes  or  so,  when  Dick  gave  a  low  cry,  and  we  all 

226 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

came  to  a  halt  with  a  push  backward.  I  hurried  around 
to  the  front  of  our  group. 

"Well,  I  be  dern!"  exclaimed  Dick. 

We  had  come  out  again  to  the  edge  of  the  island; 
a  cozy-looking  backwater  pool  was  before  us,  and  a  tangle 
of  wild  woods,  dead  now  in  the  cold  season,  but  yet 
thick  and  laced  together,  covered  it  like  a  roof.  And 
there,  in  that  backwater  pool,  that  must  have  been  a 
regular  paradise  bower  hi  summer-time,  was  the  old 
houseboat  in  which  the  Skinny  Guy  and  his  father  had 
lived  before  they  went  to  Cuba. 

"Hold  on,"  I  said,  "watch  your  step,  Dick.  There 
night  be  Red  Runners  hiding  in  there,  waiting  for  us." 

"I  got  you,"  replied  Dick;  "I  thought  of  it  right 
away,  Hawkins.  It's  a  dandy  place  for  them  to  lay 
a  trap." 

I  took  a  look  around  at  the  faces  of  our  boys.  They 
stood  there  staring  at  the  old  houseboat  as  though  it 
was  an  enchanted  thing.  For  it  was  the  old  home  of  their 
old  friend  Link,  the  Skinny  Guy,  and  it  brought  back 
many  memories  of  happy  days  when  that  skinny  kid 
was  here,  a  member  of  our  club,  and  one  of  the  best 
friends  we  ever  had. 

"Come  on,  Hawkins,"  said  Dick,  "you  and  I  sneak 
up  and  take  a  look,  see.  You  other  fellows  stay  close 
together  right  here,  till  we  call  you." 

Together  Dick  and  I  pushed  through  the  tangled 
wildwood  that  hung  between  us  and  the  houseboat.  From 
the  looks  of  things,  no  one  had  ever  set  foot  in  the  house- 
boat since  Link  and  his  daddy  left  it.  The  old  plank 
which  led  from  the  shore  to  the  water  had  slipped  off 
the  boat  end,  but  there  it  was,  one  end  half  rotted  away 
in  the  water.  We  heaved  it  up  together  and  set  it  upon 
the  front  porch  of  the  houseboat,  and  then  skipped  across. 

228 


THE    HIDDEN    HOUSEBOAT 

We  tried  the  door,  but  it  was  locked,  and  then  I  stepped 
over  and  peeped  into  the  window. 

"Dick,"  I  said  softly,  "come  here." 

Dick  came  over,  and  we  rubbed  the  grime  off  the 
window  glass  and  peered  in. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  I  asked. 

Everything  inside  was  just  as  it  had  been  left  the 
morning  the  houseboat  had  been  deserted.  The  little 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room  was  covered  with  the  same 
ragged  table  cloth  that  I  had  seen  upon  it  many  times 
when  Link  had  lived  in  the  houseboat;  upon  the  table 
were  still  the  little  tin  dishes,  cups  and  saucers,  one  on 
each  side,  just  as  they  had  served  Link  and  his  daddy 
for  their  last  breakfast  in  the  houseboat;  that  was  the 
morning  they  left  for  Cuba.  A  tin  plate  still  held  a  half 
loaf  of  bread  and  a  few  crusts,  green  with  mold.  A  china 
sugar  bowl  and  an  empty  milk  bottle  stood  in  the  mid- 
dle, while  a  pair  of  gloves  lay  on  one  corner.  Every- 
thing was  covered  thick  with  dust. 

I  lifted  the  window.  It  was  not  locked;  it  came  up 
with  a  few  squeaks.  I  leaped  hi  and  Dick  followed.  Be- 
fore we  knew  it,  the  other  fellows  had  come  up  and  were 
entering  the  open  window  behind  us. 

"Go  back,  Perry,"  said  Dick,  "one  of  you  will  have 
to  stay  on  the  lookout  for  the  Red  Runners." 

Perry  went  without  any  back  talk.    He  is  a  good  kid. 

It  was  a  queer  feeling  we  fellows  had  as  we  stood 
in  that  houseboat  again.  Funny  none  of  us  had  ever 
thought  of  it  since  the  Skinny  Guy  went  away.  The 
Skinny  Guy  himself  never  gave  it  a  thought  after  he  re- 
turned from  Cuba.  And  there  was  plenty  of  reason  for 
that.  I  guess  he  lived  in  houseboats  so  long  he  didn't 
ever  want  to  see  one  again. 

We  ail  went  up  the  little  ladder  in  the  corner,  to  the 
229 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

room  under  the  roof.  The  two  cots  with  their  disordered 
coverlets  told  us  that  no  one  had  been  there  since  the 
Skinny  Guy  and  his  pop  bid  farewell  to  houseboat  life. 
Link  had  gone  away  that  morning,  thinking  he  was  being 
parted  from  his  daddy;  and  then  his  daddy  had  suddenly 
decided  to  go  with  Uncle  Lucio  to  the  island  country 
to  be  near  his  boy;  and  had  got  up  and  had  gone,  leaving 
things  in  the  houseboat  just  as  we  found  them. 

We  went  back  downstairs,  and  stood  in  little  groups, 
talking  in  low  tones.  It  seemed  like  all  the  boys  felt,  then, 
a  little  blue;  for  it  did  bring  back  thoughts  of  our  Skinny 
Guy,  and  Link  was  a  good  scout.  The  fellows  thought  a 
lot  of  him  in  the  good  old  days.  And  here  was  all  that 
belonged  to  him  in  the  long  ago;  but  our  old  Skinny  Guy 
was  no  longer  in  it.  No,  he  was  no  longer  one  of  us;  for 
luck  had  smiled  upon  Link,  and  had  given  him  back  a 
mother  he  had  never  known,  and  with  that  great  joy 
plenty  of  money  so  that  he  never  need  live  in  such  pov- 
erty again. 

I  found  myself  staring  around  the  place  alone,  dream- 
ing of  Link  and  the  exciting  days  I  had  spent  with  him 
in  the  Caves  of  Cazanova,  and  I  shook  myself  and  walked 
over  to  the  door.  Jerry  had  opened  it,  and  was  standing 
there  alone,  leaning  up  against  the  wall,  looking  out 
through  the  tangle  of  vines  that  almost  hid  the  house- 
boat from  the  island. 

"Well,  Jerry,"  I  said. 

He  turned  and  I  saw  that  his  eyes  sparkled,  as 
though  maybe  he  felt  a  little  like  he  wanted  to  hold  back 
a  tear  or  two.  I  laughed. 

"Link's  old  home,"  I  said;  "doesn't  it  make  you 
feel- 

"The  Red  Runners  have  gone,  Hawkins,"  broke  in 
Perry  Stokes  as  he  came  up  to  the  door.  "Their  long 

230 


THE    HIDDEN    HOUSEBOAT 

boat  and  the  launch  have  just  passed  the  first  turn  in 
the  river." 

"That  so?"  called  Dick,  coming  away  from  the  group 
of  boys  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  "Good.  Lock  up, 
Hawkins,  and  fix  those  vines  as  they  were,  so  nobody 
can  find  this  houseboat  while  we  are  gone.  Come  on, 
everybody  out.  We've  got  to  get  back  home.  Shadow 
and  Robby  will  be  waiting  for  us  to  hold  our  meeting." 

We  hurried  out,  Jerry  fastening  the  door,  and  he  and 
I  together  arranged  the  vines  as  they  had  been  when  we 
came.  And  then  we  slowly  made  our  way  to  where  our 
canoes  lay,  and  quickly  started  homeward. 

"Hawkins,"  said  Dick,  "I  want  you  to  write  down  in 
your  seckatary  book  about  us  boys  finding  back  Link's 
old  houseboat.  And,  say,  we  ought  to  write  a  letter  to 
Link,  and  tell  him  all  about  it." 

Which  we  did. 


231 


XXIII 

Androfski  the  Silent 

"And  I  want  you  boys  to  know  that  it  is  all  yours — 
keep  it,  Hawkins,  for  old-times'  sake,  for  I  want  you  fel- 
lows to  remember  me  always  as  I  was  when  you  called  me 

"Your  Friend, 

"The  Skinny  Guy." 

THAT'S  the  ending  of  the  letter  that  we  got  back 
from  Link  when  we  wrote  him  about  finding  his 
pop's  old  houseboat  in  that  backwater  pool,  hid- 
den by  the  tangle  of  dead  vines  on  Seven  Willows  Island. 
Remember  him  as  he  was,  huh?  As  if  he  wasn't  still 
our  friend!  Why,  sure  he  was,  and  always  would  be. 
To  us  Link  would  always  be  the  Skinny  Guy.  Makes 
no  difference  with  us  what  happens  to  a  fellow  that  once 
belonged  to  our  bunch,  we  always  think  of  him  as  though 
he  still  belonged  to  us. 

And  gosh !  weren't  we  all  glad  to  hear  from  him  again ! 
I'll  say.  He  sent  a  letter  to  me,  but  it  was  for  all  of  the 
boys,  and  I  had  to  read  it  out  loud  at  a  meeting  in  the 
clubhouse.  I  had  just  finished  reading  it  the  third  time. 

"If  I  ain't  askin'  you  too  much  trouble,"  said  Jerry 
Moore,  "would  you  please  read  it  over  again  slow, 
Hawkins?" 

I  looked  at  our  Captain,  Dick  Ferris,  before  I  made  a 
reply. 

"The  Seckatary  will  read  it  once  more,"  said  Dick, 
hitting  the  table  with  his  wooden  hammer,  "and  I  want 
you  fellas  to  listen  closely,  'cause  it's  the  last  time.  You'll 
be  having  our  Seckatary  hoarse  reading  that  letter 

232 


ANDROFSKI    THE    SILENT 

over  and  over  again.     Have  a  heart,  for  the  love  of 
Mike.    Go  ahead,  Seckatary." 
I  started  once  more. 

"Dear  Hawkins  and  all  my  old  friends — /  got  your 
letter,  telling  about  you  fellows  finding  the  houseboat  that 
belonged  to  me  and  pop.  It  made  me  feel  strange  when  I 
read  it.  But  I  got  reasons  for  wanting  to  forget  about  that 
old  floating  house  that  I  used  to  call  home.  Yes,  pop  and 
me  hid  it  in  that  backwater  pool — the  lily  pond — that's 
what  we  called  it.  We  put  it  there  a  long  time  before  Mon- 
tilla  came.  No,  we  didn't  want  to  see  it  again  when  we 
came  back  from  Cuba.  Pop  never  wanted  my  mother  to 
know.  The  houseboat  days  were  fine  ones  for  me — you 
boys  never  knew  how  much  fun  I  had — but  I'm  glad  to  be 
past  them  now.  I  am  glad  you  fellows  found  the  old  house- 
boat before  the  Pelhams  got  next  to  it.  And  I  want  you 
boys  to  know  that  it  is  all  yours — keep  it,  Hawkins,  for 
old-times'  sake,  for  I  want  you  fellows  to  remember  me 
always  as  I  was  when  you  called  me 

"Your  Friend, 

"The  Skinny  Guy." 

"Well,  if  he  ain't  a  Prince,"  exclaimed  Bill  Darby. 

"Who,  the  Skinny  Guy?"  Jerry  Moore  said,  with  his 
chin  poked  out.  "Listen,  Bill,  there  ain't  a  fella  even 
twice  my  size  goin'  to  say  a  word  about  Link  when  I'm 
around." 

Bang!  Dick's  wooden  hammer  hit  the  table  with  a 
whack. 

"Say,"  he  said,  "you  fellows  forget  we  got  rules  in 
this  clubhouse.  You  know  you  ain't  allowed  to  talk  free 
like  that  while  a  meeting's  going  on.  Wait  till  some- 
body asks  you  something.  What  is  it,  Johnny?" 

Johnny  McLarren  stood  up. 
233 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"I  just  happened  to  think  that  maybe  this  old  house- 
boat might  be  a  good  headquarters  for  us  boys.  Time 
might  come  when  we  are  down  around  that  way  and  need 
a  hiding  place  to  run  to.  What's  the  matter  with  fixing 
it  up?  Might  even  hold  a  couple  of  meetings  down  there 
once  in  a  while." 

"Oh,  yes,  secret  meetings,"  whispered  Jerry  Moore; 
"just  like  regular  big  lodges  do,  and  make  fellas  ride  the 
goat  and  all  that,  you  know." 

"You  ain't  gonna  git  me  riding  any  goat,"  said  Roy 
Dobel. 

"Shut  up!"  yelled  our  Captain.  "Jerry,  if  I  got  to 
tell  you  once  more  not  to  butt  in  lest  you're  asked  some- 
thing, out  that  door  you  go,  hear  me?" 

"All  right,  all  right,"  replied  Jerry  in  a  low  voice, 
"I  just  got  to  talk  sometimes;  don't  mind  me  if  you 
don't  like  to  hear  the  sound  of  my  voice." 

"I  don't  mean,"  continued  Johnny,  "that  we  would 
want  to  make  that  our  headquarters  to  meet  in  all  the 
time.  It  would  be  foolish  when  we  have  this  fine  club- 
house. But  there  might  come  a  time,  you  know — " 

"Good  idea,"  said  our  Captain.  "What  you  got 
to  say,  Hawkins?" 

"It's  a  fine  houseboat,"  I  answered,  "and  it  will  al- 
ways remind  us  of  the  Skinny  Guy  and  the  days  when  we 
were  smaller  kids  than  we  are  now.  But  I  ain't  saying 
that  it  would  be  safe  to  hang  around  it  much.  We  all 
know  the  Red  Runners  go  down  to  the  Island — " 

"That's  just  why  I  think  we  ought  to  have  it,"  said 
Johnny  McLarren,  "  'cause,  you  see,  Hawkins,  it  might 
help  us  to  get  a  chance  to  trap  the  whole  bunch  of  red- 
coats some  time — lock  'em  up  in  the  old  houseboat  and 
then  send  somebody  up  for  the  Sheriff  and  his  men 
while  we  guard  them  on  the  outside." 

234 


ANDROFSKI    THE    SILENT 

I  saw  right  away  that  Johnny's  idea  had  caught 
on  with  all  the  other  boys.  And  while  I  figured  it  would 
probably  be  getting  us  in  trouble  sooner  or  later,  I 
did  not  say  another  word  for  or  against.  No,  sir.  I  know 
my  fellows.  When  they  get  set  on  a  thing,  let  'em  alone; 
that's  what  I  say.  Because  I  know  it  won't  do  any  good 
to  try  to  talk  'em  out  of  it.  Help  'em  out  of  it  if  they  get 
in  trouble,  yes;  but  don't  try  to  talk  around  Jerry  Moore 
and  Johnny  McLarren  and  Dick  Ferris.  That's  three 
of  a  kind,  and  they  usually  finish  what  they  set  out  to  do. 

So  at  the  next  two  meetings  nothing  was  talked  about 
but  the  new  headquarters  we  were  to  fix  up  in  the  house- 
boat on  the  island.  The  reason  we  took  our  time  about 
it  was  that  we  did  not  want  anybody — not  a  single  soul 
— to  know  a  thing  about  it.  No,  not  even  good  old 
Doc  Waters — nobody  was  to  know  that  we  had  another 
headquarters.  For  we  figured  out  that  if  even  one  per- 
son knew  of  it  the  Red  Runners  might  get  on  to  it, 
and  then — 

Shadow  Loomis  and  Robby  Hood  had  not  shown 
up  at  our  meetings  for  a  long  time  now.  What  was  keep- 
ing them  in  Watertown  we  did  not  know.  We  had  not 
heard  a  word.  We  started  our  meeting  every  day  fifteen 
minutes  later  than  usual,  thinking  that  maybe  one  or  the 
other  would  show  up.  But  neither  came.  And  now  it 
was  time  to  go  down  to  the  Skinny  Guy's  houseboat  hid- 
den away  in  "the  lily  pond,"  and  fix  up  our  new  head- 
quarters. 

"It's  a  shame  Shadow  and  Robby  can't  go  along," 
said  Dick  Ferris  to  me  as  we  followed  the  other  boys  out 
of  our  clubhouse  after  the  meeting. 

"They  might  come  yet,"  I  said;  "We  held  our  meet- 
ing pretty  early  after  school  to-day;  they  ain't  had  a 
chance  to  get  here  yet,  Dick." 

235 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Suppose  you  leave  a  note,"  said  Dick,  "and  put  it 
on  the  door.  Just  write  on  it  'Gone  to  the  island.' ' 

I  went  back  into  my  little  office  and  wrote  on  a 
small  card: 

"Gone  to  the  island.  Land  your  boat  at  old  summer 
camp  place  and  shout  'Halloo'  three  times,  and  I  will  come 
and  show  you  the  way.  Hawkins." 

This  I  tacked  upon  the  door,  under  the  knob.  Then 
Dick  and  I  hurried  after  the  boys  who  were  just  getting 
into  the  canoes. 

No;  I'll  not  forget  anything  that  happened  on  that 
trip  to  the  hidden  houseboat  hi  "the  lily  pond."  We 
had  landed  at  the  old  summer  camp  spot  and  pulled  our 
canoes  up  out  of  the  water  and  hid  them  in  the  woods. 
It  had  been  rainy  weather  for  a  week,  and  the  banks 
were  muddy — yellow  mud  that  sticks  to  your  shoes  like 
the  dickens.  But  how  easy  it  was  to  find  our  way, 
now  that  we  knew.  Yet  the  thorns  and  briars  that  at- 
tacked our  shins  and  bare  hands  as  we  pushed  through 
that  tanglewood  nearly  drove  us  back.  Nearly,  I  said, 
for  we  pushed  on  as  though  we  were  Indians  fighting  our 
way  out  of  an  enemy's  country. 

And  there,  when  we  reached  the  old  houseboat,  we 
forgot  all  our  scratches  and  hurts.  We  felt  different,  as 
though  we  were  still  clinging  to  something  'that  be- 
longed to  our  old  Skinny  Guy.  We  set  to  work  with  a 
will,  cleaned  out  the  dirt  and  dust  with  brooms  we  had 
brought,  oiled  up  the  rusty  hinges  and  locks,  fitted  a  new 
key  in  the  front  door  from  a  bunch  of  keys  Jerry  had 
brought,  and  put  everything  in  order.  All  of  the  while 
Dick  Ferris  went  about  warning  the  boys  to  go  about  it 
quietly  and  not  to  attract  the  attention  of  any  Pelhams 
or  Red  Runners  who  might  happen  to  be  down  on  the 


237 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

island.  For  we  knew  that  Harkinson  had  built  a  log- 
house  on  this  island  in  the  summer,  and  it  wasn't  likely 
that  he  would  forget  about  that. 

And  yet,  how  things  happen,  even  if  you  take  the 
most  care  in  the  world.  We  had  finished  everything,  and 
had  locked  the  houseboat  and  started  back  for  the  river. 
Just  as  we  came  out  of  the  tanglewood  at  the  point 
where  we  had  hidden  our  canoes  Perry  Stokes  gave  a 
sharp  cry  and  pointed.  We  all  looked.  A  few  feet  ahead 
of  us  stood  three  Red  Runners.  One  of  them  I  knew.  He 
wore  a  white  "7"  on  his  red  sleeve;  he  was  Seventh-in- 
Line  Lasky,  whom  Jerry  had  captured  some  weeks  ago. 
The  other  two  were  strangers  to  me.  One  wore  a  "3"  on 
his  sleeve,  and  the  other  a  "4."  The  one  with  the  "3," 
which  meant  that  he  was  third  hi  line  in  the  Red  Run- 
ners, was  a  dark-skinned  fellow  with  dark,  stringy  hair 
and  a  nose  like  the  beak  of  a  bird.  He  grinned  at  us 
with  a  sneering  look,  and  in  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm 
lay  a  repeating  rifle.  He  simply  stood  there  in  front  of 
his  two  companions  and  grinned  at  us. 

"Well,"  said  our  Captain,  "what  do  you  want?" 

Third-in-Line  turned  to  Fourth-in-Line,  and  said 
something  to  him  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  Fourth-in-Line 
nodded  and  then  said  to  us: 

"Androfski  says  you  must  follow  us — every  one  of 
you." 

Jerry  Moore  stepped  up.  I  tried  to  catch  his  arm, 
but  he  got  by  me. 

"Listen,"  he  said  to  the  third-in-line  Red  Runner, 
"if  you're  Androfski,  why  can't  you  give  your  own  orders 
without  turning  around  and  telling  Number  Four  there 
what  to  say." 

"Wait,"  said  Fourth-in-Line,  "you  don't  know — 
Androfski  can't  talk — he  lost  his  voice  when  he  was  little 

238 


ANDROFSKI    THE    SILENT 

— we  call  him  Androfski  the  Silent — but  you  better  do 
what  he  says,  or  you  will  be  sorry." 

"I'd  like  to  know  why,"  said  Jerry. 

Androfski  the  Silent  turned  quickly  to  Fourth-in- 
Line.  The  grin  went  from  his  face,  and  I  saw  an  angry 
look  there.  He  whispered  hoarsely  again  to  his  com- 
panion. Meanwhile,  Lasky,  seventh-in-line,  stood  be- 
hind the  two  and  said  not  a  word. 

"You  must  come,"  said  Fourth-in-Line,  "to  the  Red 
Runners'  courtroom  in  the  stockade.  Androfski  the 
Silent  says  you  are  his  prisoners,  and  you  must  let  him 
take  you  before  the  Red  Runners  right  away.  Else 
you  will  be  sorry." 

"For  what?"chimed  in  a  new  voice. 

With  a  glad  cry  Perry  Stokes  who  had  been  trembling 
ever  since  the  Red  Runners  showed  up,  ran  forward. 
Androfski  the  Silent  turned,  and  so  did  his  two  pals. 
They  faced  Shadow  Loomis. 

"Ah!" 

Shadow  Loomis  walked  up  to  Androfski  and  looked 
straight  into  his  eyes. 

"I  know,  Androfski.  The  gun's  not  loaded.  Put 
it  down  and  take  off  your  coat.  We  will  settle  our  old 
quarrel  right  away.  I've  been  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  meet  you  away  from  that  Red  bunch  of  yours.  Are 
you  ready  for  it?" 

Surely  Androfski  was  ready.  He  showed  that  by 
the  way  he  dropped  his  gun,  threw  his  cap  on  the 
ground,  and  backed  away  while  he  doubled  up  his 
fists.  Just  as  Shadow  stepped  forward  Fourth-in-Line 
darted  to  the  gun,  picked  it  up  and  ran  away  with  it 
into  the  woods.  Seventh-in-Line  Lasky,  seeing  this, 
turned  and  followed  after  him.  Androfski  the  Silent 
was  deserted,  alone,  facing  his  enemy,  Shadow  Loomis. 

239 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

No  matter  what  else  I  may  write  about  Androfski 
the  Silent,  this  one  thing  I'll  say  for  him  right  now.  He 
was  game.  Game  as  the  gamest  fighter  I  ever  saw. 
There  we  were,  a  dozen  of  us  in  back  of  Shadow  Loomis, 
but  Androfski  was  all  alone,  deserted,  and  yet  he  stood 
up  with  his  bare  fist  and  did  the  best  he  could  against 
a  boy  whom  he  had  a  grudge  against  and  who  had  a 
grudge  against  him.  And  he  got  the  first  blow,  too,  a 
right-hand  punch  to  the  jaw  that  sent  Shadow  back 
a  step  or  two,  but  Shadow  only  smiled  and  gritted  his 
teeth.  Then,  as  Shadow  ^stepped  up  quickly  to  give 
him  one — it's  funny  about  this  rule  of  the  Red  Runners 
— came  the  sound  of  Harkinson's  horn.  As  far  as  An- 
drofski the  Silent  was  concerned,  the  fight  was  over.  I 
saw  him  turn  his  bird-like  nose  for  an  instant  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  sound  of  that  horn;  the  next  second  he  had 
stooped  and  snatched  his  cap  from  the  ground  and  was 
gone — to  answer  the  call  of  the  horn — the  call  of  the 
leader  of  his  gang. 

We  stood  there  on  the  sloping  bank,  our  old  summer 
camping  place,  and  watched  him  disappear — silent  as 
was  his  name — like  a  smudge  of  red  among  the  dead 
trees  of  the  woods.  Then  Shadow  laughed. 

"He's  gone,"  he  said,  "and  I  thought  sure  we  could 
settle  it  this  time.  What  you  fellows  come  down  here 
for,  anyway?" 

We  stood  there  and  told  Shadow  about  the  hidden 
houseboat.  He  wanted  to  go  back  with  us  right  away 
and  have  a  look  at  it.  I  said  we  better  not  try  it  to-day, 
as  this  rumpus  with  the  Red  Runners  had  taken  all 
the  gumption  out  of  me.  I'd  feel  safer  back  home. 
But  Dick  and  Jerry  were  about  to  go  back  through  the 
tanglewood  with  Shadow,  when  out  of  the  dead  timber 

240 


ANDROFSKI    THE    SILENT 

came  a  figure — a  red  coat — by  golly,  it  was  Seventh- 
in-Line  Lasky! 

He  came  right  up  to  me. 

"Go,"  he  said  in  a  breathless  voice,  "go,  Hawkins, 
they're  coming — all  of  'em.  Harkinson — he  knows 
you're  here;  Fourth-in-Line  Oder  told  him,  and  they've 
got  sixteen — you've  no  chance — go,  quick." 

"But,  Lasky—"  I  said. 

"You  did  me  a  good  turn  once — you  turned  me 
loose  when  your  gang  caught  me,  and,  Hawkins,  I  ain't 
forgot  it;  now,  go  before  they  come — they're  too  many 
against  you." 

Without  another  word  Seventh-in-Line  darted  into 
the  woods  again  and  was  lost  among  the  trees. 

"That's  the  first  Red  Runner  I  ever  knew  to  do 
that — "  said  Shadow  Loomis. 

"Come  on,"  I  broke  in,  "we  can  talk  about  it  better 
in  our  own  clubhouse." 

Which  we  did. 


16 


241 


XXIV 

Saving  the  Secret 

TWO  days  later  Shadow  Loomis  and  Robby  Hood 
showed  up  together  for  our  meeting  in  the  club- 
house. Shadow  was  quiet  all  during  the  meeting. 
As  soon  as  it  was  over  he  said  to  me: 

"Hawkins,  I  want  to  go  down  to  see  the  hidden 
houseboat  that  used  to  belong  to  Link.  Robby  knows 
about  it.  I  told  him.  And  he  wants  to  go,  too.  We 
are  anxious  to  see  the  old  place  the  Skinny  Guy  used 
to  live  in." 

"Ask  our  Captain,"  I  said. 

Dick  had  been  standing  right  beside  us. 

"Of  course  they  can  go,"  he  said.  "I  was  going  to 
suggest  a  trip  down  there,  anyway.  Tell  the  boys  to 
get  out  the  canoes." 

In  five  minutes  we  were  on  the  water,  heading  south 
for  the  island.  It  was  a  clear  afternoon,  although  the 
cold  weather  was  beginning  to  remind  us  that  winter 
was  about  to  wrap  us  in  a  blanket  of  snow.  However, 
the  paddling  kept  us  pretty  warm,  and  we  reached  our 
old  summer  camping  ground  in  a  little  while.  We  pulled 
up  our  boats  and  hid  them  as  we  had  done  on  our  pre- 
vious visits,  and  then  struck  out  through  the  tangled 
woods  for  the  backwater  pool — "the  lily  pond,"  as  Link 
called  it.  It  would  have  been  wiser  to  cut  our  way 
through  as  we  went,  so  that  we  would  not  always  have 
to  fight  the  thorns  and  stickers  when  we  came  to  the 
houseboat.  But  our  Captain  gave  orders  that  nothing 
was  to  be  changed;  if  we  made  a  path  that  would  be  easy 
for  us  to  get  through  it  would  be  easy  as  well  for  the  Red 

242 


SAVING   THE    SECRET 

Runners  or  the  Pelhams.  And  we  intended  that  nobody 
should  know  about  our  secret  headquarters  in  this  quiet 
spot. 

"Oh,  boy,  what  a  beauty,"  said  Shadow  Loomis,  as  he 
caught  his  first  look  at  the  old  houseboat  through  the 
lacing  of  the  old  vines.  "Good-night,  Hawkins,  if  the 
Red  Runners  ever  see  that,  you  fellas  won't  own  it  any 
more." 

"I  know  it,"  I  said;  "that's  the  reason  we  must  keep 
it  a  secret." 

Shadow  shook  his  head.  "I'm  afraid  we  can't,"  he 
said.  "I'm  afraid  they  kind  o'  think  we  got  something 
like  this.  They've  seen  some  of  us  down  here  several 
times.  I  kind  o'  think — " 

"Look  here,  Shadow,"  I  said  suddenly,  "what's  on 
your  mind?  I  bet  I  know  why  you  came  down  here. 
You  think  you'll  get  a  chance  to  meet  Androfski  again. 
You  figured  he  would  be  down  here,  didn't  you?" 

Shadow  laughed. 

"Good  boy,"  he  said;  "you  sure  got  some  think 
cap,  Hawkins,  old  top.  Sure,  you  bet,  I  expected  An- 
drofski to  be  down  here.  And  I'll  bet  he's  here,  too." 

Jerry  Moore  was  unlocking  the  door  as  we  brought 
up  the  rear  of  the  line  at  the  houseboat.  While  the  others 
crowded  forward  onto  the  gang-plank  that  led  to  the 
houseboat  porch  I  waited  on  the  bank.  As  I  looked 
down  at  my  muddy  shoes  my  eye  happened  to  see  foot- 
prints in  the  mud  around  the  water's  edge.  I  stooped 
down  and  looked  at  the  marks  carefully.  No  boy  in  our 
bunch  had  such  big  feet  to  make  those  large  foot- 
prints. 

"Shadow,"  I  called. 

He  turned  and  came  back  to  me. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

243 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Look,"  I  said,  pointing  at  the  marks  in  the  mud. 
"I  guess  you  are  right;  looks  like  our  houseboat  has  been 
discovered.  Those  footprints  might  have  been  made 
by  Androfski." 

Shadow  stooped  and  looked  at  the  prints,  and  then 
turned  to  me  with  a  shake  of  his  head. 

"No,"  he  said,  "not  Androfski.  Most  likely  a  Red 
Runner,  but  not  Androfski.  I  know  every  little  mark 
of  that  fella;  this  footprint's  not  been  made  by  him." 

"Come  in,  you  fellas,"  called  Dick,  and  we  went  into 
the  houseboat.  The  boys  had  arranged  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor  the  old  table  that  was  formerly  used  by  Link 
and  his  daddy,  and  had  put  chairs  around  it,  odd  chairs, 
most  of  them  broken,  and  only  a  few  with  backs,  and 
some  made  out  of  rough  wood,  cut  from  trees  on  the 
river  bank.  We  all  gathered  around  the  table,  taking 
the  same  places  that  we  occupied  at  meetings  in  our 
clubhouse.  Dick  Ferris  pulled  his  little  wooden  hammer 
from  his  pocket  and  hit  the  table  with  it. 

"Order,"  he  said;  "fellas,  the  first  meeting  in  our 
secret  headquarters  will  come  to  order." 

Somehow  it  felt  strange  to  us.  We  all  sat  there  for 
a  minute  as  quiet  as  though  we  were  in  church.  No  tell- 
ing how  long  we  would  have  sat  there  that  way  if  Dick 
hadn't  hit  the  table  another  whack  with  his  hammer. 

"Well,  wake  up,"  he  said;  "what's  the  idea  of  a  meet- 
ing if  you  fellas  want  to  sit  there  looking  at  one  another? 
Come  on,  get  up,  somebody,  say  something." 

As  for  me,  I  didn't  care  to  say  anything.  I  was  think- 
ing about  the  Skinny  Guy — what  would  he  say  if  he 
could  see  us  now,  his  old  pals,  sitting  around  his  old  table 
in  his  old  home,  calling  to  order  the  first  secret  meeting 
of  our  little  gang? 

"This  is  the  time  to  make  new  rules,"  said  Jerry 
244 


SAVING   THE    SECRET 

Moore,  standing  up  and  leaning  his  hands  on  the  table. 
"  'Cause  I  think  you  have  to  lay  them  rules  right  away, 
Dick,  if  this  houseboat  is  to  be  kept  a  secret.  If  we 
don't  have  rules  one  of  us  is  goin'  to  go  blundering 
right  into  something  that'll  bring  the  whole  Pelham 
bunch  right  into  this  here  secret  headquarters,  or  what's 
worse,  the  Red  Runners — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Dick,  "that's  right,  Jerry.  Now, 
listen,  fellas,  and  listen  good.  If  we  want  to  do  this  thing 
right  we  must  make  these  rules.  First,  no  fella  is  allowed 
to  come  down  here  by  himself;  no  fella  is  allowed  to 
come  down  here  with  another  fella  unless  he  gets  per- 
mission from  me  or  Hawkins.  I  hope  you  all  understand 
that." 

Every  boy  nodded  his  head.  "Sure,"  they  said,  "Some 
said,  "of  course";  others  said,  "that's  right."  I  didn't 
say  anything. 

"And  whatever  you  do,"  continued  Dick,  "never  tell 
anybody,  not  even  your  mother  or  your  sister  or  your 
cousin,  or  nobody,  about  this  secret  houseboat  head- 
quarters. Nobody  will  ever  know  then  that  we  can 
sneak  away  to  this  hiding  place.  Nobody  will  ever 
know  that  this  old  houseboat  is  here." 

"Somebody  knows  it  already,"  I  said. 

"What!" 

Dick  jumped  up.  The  other  fellows  turned  and 
looked  at  me.  They  all  had  surprise  on  their  faces. 
Only  Shadow  Loomis  smiled  and  kept  his  seat. 

"Yeah,"  I  said,  "somebody's  been  here  this  very  day, 
peeking  in  the  windows  there.  If  you'll  go  outside  you'll 
see  his  footprints  in  the  mud  on  the  bank." 

All  of  the  fellows  but  Shadow  and  I  went  outside  to 
look  for  the  marks  I  had  spoken  of.  Shadow  and  I 
heard  them  talking  in  low  tones,  comparing  their  own 

245 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

shoe  bottoms  with  the  marks  in  the  mud.  They  hurried 
back,  led  by  Dick. 

"By  Golly,  you're  right,  Hawkins,"  said  Dick. 
"Now,  what's  to  do?" 

"There's  only  one  thing  to  do,"  said  Shadow  quietly, 
"and  that  is  to  get  the  fella  who  found  out  our  secret. 
If  he  is  a  Red  Runner  turn  him  over  to  the  Sheriff. 
If  he  is  only  a  Pelham  give  him  a  licking  and  tell  him  he'll 
get  another  if  he  opens  his  mouth  about  this  hidden 
houseboat." 

Dick  shook  his  head  and  sat  down.  He  rested  his 
elbows  on  the  table  and  sunk  his  chin  in  his  hands. 

"Oh,  Lord,"  he  said,  "it's  always  something.  If 
it  ain't  one  thing  it's  another.  What  chance  have  we 
got  to  catch  that  fella?  Now,  we  might  as  well  make  up 
our  mind  to  give  up  this  houseboat  purty  soon.  Oh,  gee, 
I  wish  somebody  else  was  Captain  instead  of  me." 

Lew  Hunter  stepped  over,  and  with  a  laugh,  slapped 
our  Captain  on  the  back. 

"Cheer  up,  old  scout,"  he  said,  "don't  give  up  the 
ship.  Come  on,  you  fellas,  this  is  the  first  meeting  in 
our  Skinny  Guy's  old  houseboat.  Let's  make  it  sound 
cheerful — stand  up,  all  of  you — that's  the  way — now, 
come  on,  join  in — 

"Weep  no  more  for  me, 
We  vnll  sing  one  song  of  my  old  Kentucky  Home — " 

The  boys  sang.  There  never  was  a  time  when 
Lew  Hunter  started  a  song  that  those  boys  didn't  join 
in.  Lew  had  them  all  trained.  There  was  something  of 
a  music  master  about  Lew  that  the  boys  did  not  under- 
stand, and  did  not  try  to  understand.  Whenever  he 
sang  they  sang,  too;  that  was  all  there  was  to  it.  How 
those  harmonizing  voices  swelled  through  that  old  house- 

246 


SAVING   THE    SECRET 

boat!    Gosh,  we  might  have  known  that  it  would  have 
been  heard — 

"Red  Runners!"  cried  Roy  Dobel,  pointing  at  the 
window.  The  singing  broke  off  suddenly  as  we  turned 
our  eyes  to  the  window.  Only  for  an  instant  did  the 
face  linger  at  the  window  pane — a  face  that  somewhere 
I  had  seen,  but  could  not  place.  Only  for  an  instant, 
I  say,  and  then  it  was  jerked  back.  I  saw  a  red  sleeve — 

"He's  all  by  himself,"  shouted  Shadow  Loomis —  "get 
him,  fellas.  Come  on,  everybody  after  him.  Don't 
let  him  get  out  of  sight,  Hawkins." 

For  I  was  the  first  one  out  of  the  door.  I  saw  the  red 
jacket  cutting  it  as  fast  as  he  could.  Through  the  thorn 
and  sticker  patch,  and  then  out  under  the  trees;  the 
whole  bunch  in  back  of  me  shouting  and  yelling,  and 
the  running  redcoat  ran  faster  than  he  would  have  run 
if  he  had  not  been  so  badly  scared. 

As  I  sit  here  in  my  little  office  room,  writing  about 
this,  I  can't  help  laughing  at  the  foolish  way  we  yelled 
and  ran.  What  if  the  Red  Runners  had  all  been  hiding 
somewhere?  Suppose  they  had  all  been  behind  that 
thicket  of  thorn?  Lucky  for  us  they  were  not.  No,  there 
were  no  others — only  this  o"ne.  He  ran  for  the  big  log 
house  at  the  other  end  of  the  island,  the  stockade  that 
Harkinson  and  the  Pelhams  had  built  last  summer.  He 
reached  it  far  ahead  of  any  of  us.  And  slammed  the 
door.  I  heard  it  being  bolted  on  the  inside  as  we  came  up. 

"Well,"  I  said,  as  Shadow  came  up  out  of  breath, 
"he's  there.  But  he  has  locked  us  out." 

"Not  me,"  said  Shadow  Loomis.  "No  Red  Runner 
can  lock  me  out.  Give  me  a  boost,  Jerry." 

Jerry  and  I  gave  him  our  hand  and  he  lifted  himself 
up  the  side  of  the  log  house.  With  a  swing  he  reached  the 
roof. 

247 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Watch  out  down  there,  now,"  he  called. 

I  saw  his  purpose  in  a  second.  There  was  a  wide 
chimney,  made  of  rocks  and  mud,  built  against  one  side 
of  the  log  house.  Shadow  stopped  a  moment  to  look 
into  it;  the  next  second  he  was  putting  his  foot  over 
the  edge,  getting  into  it.  We  saw  him  let  himself 
down  easy  into  the  chimney.  I  wondered  if  the  Red 
Runner  inside  knew  what  we  were  doing.  I  ran  to  the 
door  and  began  pounding  ou  it  to  get  his  attention 
away  from  the  fireplace.  Then  I  heard  a  cry  of  sur- 
prise from  inside.  I  heard  the  bolt  shot  back  and 
felt  the  door  give  way.  Jerry  and  I  pushed  hard  and 
rushed  in. 

Shadow  and  the  Red  Runner  were  scrambling 
around  the  loghouse  floor  together.  Oh,  how  that  Red 
Runner  fought !  He  was  like  a  wildcat,  and  he  was  much 
the  best,  because  he  was  bigger  and  older  than  Shadow 
Loomis.  But  Jerry  and  I  hurried  to  his  help,  and  soon 
we  were  sitting  on  top  of  the  redcoat.  Perry  Stokes 
brought  some  rope,  and  we  tied  his  arms  fast  and  made 
him  sit  up.  On  his  sleeve  there  was  the  number  "4." 
One  look  at  his  face  and  I  remembered  him.  He  was 
the  one  who  had  been  with  Androfski  and  Seventh-in- 
Line  Lasky  the  day  they  surprised  us,  the  day  Shadow 
Loomis  and  Androfski  had  the  fight. 

"Your  name  is  Oder,"  I  said.  "Fourth-in-Line  Red 
Runner.  Is  that  right?" 

"You  said  it,"  replied  Fourth-in-Line  in  a  very  sulky 
tone. 

"When  did  you  discover  our  houseboat  in  the  back- 
water?" asked  Dick  Ferris. 

"Yesterday." 

"Anybody  else  seen  it  besides  you?" 

"Find  out  for  yourself." 

248 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

Dick  looked  at  Shadow  and  me.  "Suppose  he  ain't 
the  only  one,"  he  said.  "Suppose  those  footprints  were 
made  by  another  Red  Runner." 

We  made  our  prisoner  march  ahead  of  us  back  to  the 
houseboat.  When  we  compared  the  footprints  with  his 
big  shoes  we  saw  at  once  that  it  was  he  who  had  walked 
in  the  mud  there. 

"It's  him,"  said  Shadow.    "He's  the  one." 

"Well,  fellas,"  I  said,  "what'll  we  do  with  him?" 

"Turn  him  over  to  the  Sheriff,"  said  Jerry  Moore. 

"Oh,  listen,"  I  said,  "if  this  was  Harkinson  or  Long 
Tom,  you  know,  why  sure.  I'd  turn  him  over  right 
away.  But  we've  only  seen  this  Fourth-in-Line  fella 
twice — " 

"Only  this,"  broke  in  Shadow  Loomis,  "you  boys 
want  to  keep  your  hidden  houseboat  a  secret,  don't  you?" 

"Of  course  we  do." 

"Well,  then,  there's  only  one  way  to  keep  it  a  secret 
now.  This  fellow  is  in  on  the  secret.  He  knows  where 
the  houseboat  is;  we  saw  him  looking  in  the  window. 
Of  course  be  will  tell  the  other  Red  Runners.  And  they 
would  be  there  as  soon  as  they  could  get  there.  But  if 
the  Sheriff  gets  him  he  will  be  put  somewhere  where  he 
can't  get  out  for  a  while.  The  only  way  to  keep  your 
secret  is  to  turn  him  over  to  the  Sheriff." 

Which  we  did. 


250 


XXV 

Lasky  Goes  Home 

WE  HELD  a  meeting  in  our  clubhouse  next 
day  after  school.  All  of  us  boys  talked  only 
about  Oder,  Fourth-in-Line  Red  Runner,  whom 
we  had  captured  and  turned  over  to  the  Sheriff.  He  was 
brought  before  old  Judge  Granbery,  and,  although  he  was 
careful  in  his  answers  to  the  Judge's  questions,  he  wasn't 
quite  slick  enough  for  the  old  Judge,  and  the  result  was 
that  the  Judge  got  the  idea  that  he  was  a  pretty  bad 
boy,  and  that  it  would  be  best  to  put  him  somewhere 
where  he  could  do  no  more  harm.  The  last  I  heard  about 
it  was  that  the  Sheriff  was  taking  him  to  Watertown  to 
put  him  in  some  school  there  where  he  would  have  to 
stay  until  he  became  a  good  boy. 

"Well,"  I  said  to  Shadow  Loomis,  "it's  one  Red 
Runner  less  to  be  afraid  of.  But  I  wish  it  had  been  Har- 
kinson  instead  of  Oder.  As  long  as  Harkinson  is  free 
I'm  always  going  to  be  uneasy." 

"I  wish  it  had  been  Androfski,"  he  said.  "Androfski 
the  Silent.  I  tell  you,  Hawkins,  Harkinson  ain't  half  as 
bad  as  Androfski.  If  you  should  ever  get  to  know  him  as 
well  as  I  do — " 

"What's  the  use  picking  out  any  single  one  of  'em?" 
broke  in  Jerry  Moore.  "Catch  the  whole  bunch  at  once 
— that's  what  I  say." 

"But  that's  what  you  can't  do,"  said  Shadow  Loomis. 
"Look  here,  Jerry,  you  tell  us  how  to  do  it,  and  I'll  help 
you  if  the  others  won't." 

"Gimme  time,"  said  Jerry.  "I'm  thinkin'  up  a  way. 
251 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

You'll  see,  Shadow.  I'll  have  'em  all  marching  up  to 
the  Sheriff  some  day." 

I  smiled  at  Jerry. 

"He's  got  a  bad  habit,  Jerry  has,"  I  said  to  Shadow 
Loomis.  "He  counts  chickens.  But  if  he  does  figure 
out  a  way  he's  better'n  I  am.  You  can  count  on  my 
help,  too,  Jerry." 

"On  all  of  us,"  said  our  Captain,  Dick  Ferris.  "If 
Jerry  or  anybody  else  can  figure  out  a  way  to  trap  the 
whole  gang  of  Red  Runners,  it's  our  duty  to  see  that  it's 
done." 

Doc  Waters  came  down  to  our  clubhouse  after  the 
meeting.  I  was  left  alone  in  my  little  office,  and  he 
scared  me  when  he  suddenly  said: 

"Glad  to  find  you  here,  Hawkins,  old  boy.  The  Judge 
asked  me  to  see  you.  He  wants  to  talk  to  you." 

"Wait,"  I  said,  "I'll  call  the  boys.  They're  out  in 
the  hollow.  We  will  all  go  up." 

"No,"  said  Doc,  "he  wants  to  see  you  alone." 

"Good  Lord,  Doc,"  I  said,  "have  I  done  some- 
thing?" 

Doc  laughed. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  he  said.  "I  think  he  wants  to 
see  you  on  business." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "he's  got  a  job  for  me,  huh?  Oh, 
well,  come  on,  I'm  ready." 

The  old  Judge  sat  in  his  dusty  office  with  his  feet 
upon  his  desk,  and  his  hat  shoved  back  upon  his  half- 
bald  head.  He  scowled  through  his  spectacles  at  the 
sound  of  our  footsteps,  but  smiled  when  he  saw  who  it 
was. 

"Sit  down,"  said  the  Judge  shortly.  We  both  took 
seats.  I  twirled  my  hat  in  my  hands  while  I  wondered 
what  was  coming.  It  was  a  long  time  before  he  spoke. 

252 


LASKY    GOES    HOME 

Then  he  said:  "How  long  have  you  known  this  gang  of 
boys  who  call  themselves  the  Red  Runners?" 

"I've  known  some  of  'em  a  long  time,  Judge,"  I 
answered,  "and  there's  a  lot  of  'em  I  don't  know  at  all." 

"Can  you  give  me  their  names?" 

"No,  sir.  Not  all  of  'em.  The  leader  is  Long  Tom. 
He  used  to  bum  around  with  Stoner's  Boy — you  re- 
member Stoner,  Judge." 

"Yes,  yes.  I  suppose  these  boys  are  of  the  same 
brand." 

"Worse — lots  worse.  These  fellas  don't  stop  at  any- 
thing, Judge.  Stoner  was  never  so  bad  as  Harkinson — " 

"Harkinson?    That's  the  name  of  another  one?" 

"Yes,  sir.    "He's  second-in-line,  sir." 

"Second-in-line?  Just  what  does  that  mean,  Haw- 
kins?" 

"Well,  Judge,  they  all  have  numbers.  Wear  'em  on 
their  sleeves.  You  see,  Long  Tom  is  the  leader,  so  he 
is  Number  One.  Harkinson  is  next,  so  he  wears  Number 
Two.  Androfski— " 

"Androfski?  Is  that  another  one's  name?  Doctor, 
wasn't  there  an  Androfski — 

"Yes,  Judge,"  said  Doc  Waters,  "that  was  the  name 
of  the  fellow  who  got  seven  years — you  were  the  Judge 
at  his  trial,  you  will  remember — " 

"Ah,  yes,  now  I  remember,"  interrupted  Judge  Gran- 
bery,  "he  broke  out  and  tried  to  throw  an  exploding 
bomb  in  my  window." 

"That's  the  one,"  said  Doc.  "This  might  be  a  rela- 
tive of  his — perhaps  his  son  for  all  we  know." 

"Go  ahead,  Hawkins.  That  makes  three  names  we 
have.  Any  others?" 

"Oder — he  was  the  one  we  caught,  you  know.  He 
was  fourth-in-line." 

253 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

The  Judge  nodded.  "Yes,  he's  safe  for  a  while.  I 
hope  we  will  be  able  to  send  the  rest  of  them  to  keep  him 
company  very  shortly.  How  many  others  do  you  know?" 

"Only  one,  Judge,"  I  answered,  "his  name  being 
Lasky,  seventh-in-line." 

"Seventh-in-line,"  the  Judge  repeated;  then  he 
chuckled  and  looked  up  at  Doc  Waters.  "It's  re- 
markable, isn't  it,  Doctor,  how  they  go  about  their 
business?  You  wouldn't  imagine  boys  to  organize  and 
keep  such  order,  would  you?" 

"They're  all  much  older  boys  than  Hawkins  and  his 
playfellows,  Judge,"  said  Doc,  "and  it  is  really  a  shame 
for  such  bigger  boys  to  come  around  here  to  annoy  our 
youngsters." 

The  Judge  looked  serious. 

"Hawkins,"  he  said,  "I  don't  have  to  warn  you. 
These  boys  from  up  the  river  are  not  safe  for  you  boys 
to  deal  with.  You  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  "but  we  never  start  any  trouble, 
Judge,  I'll  give  you  my  word.  It's  only  when  they  come 
down  the  river  bank  that  we  get  mixed  up  with  'em. 
And  we've  got  to  fight  back,  Judge;  we've  got  to  take 
our  own  part." 

The  Judge  smiled. 

"To  be  sure,  Hawkins,"  he  said;  "but  it  is  best  that 
we  put  a  stop  to  it  as  soon  as  possible.  I  always  call  you 
boys  my  junior  police,  and  you  have  always  kept  order 
and  done  the  right  thing,  and  I  am  proud  of  you — our 
whole  town  is  proud  of  you.  But  we  do  not  want  boys 
from  other  towns  coming  in  here  and  making  trouble. 
1  suppose  they  will  try  harder  than  ever  now  to  get  you, 
because  you  caught  one  of  their  pals.  That  is  why 
I  sent  for  you.  You  must  not  give  them  a  chance  to 
catch  one  of  you.  And  you  have  given  me  the  names  of 

254 


LASKY    GOES    HOME 

five  of  these  boys.  I  will  have  the  Sheriff  of  Watertown 
to  look  them  up  and  see  if  he  cannot  get  them.  Mean- 
time, try  to  get  the  names  of  the  rest  of  them." 

"I'll  try,"  I  said,  shaking  my  head  doubtfully, 
"but  I  don't  believe  the  Sheriff  of  Watertown  will  ever 
get  his  hands  on  'em,  Judge.  They're  too  slick  for 
him." 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Judge  Granbery.  "That  will  be 
all,  Hawkins,  you  can  go  now." 

I  hurried  back  down  to  the  clubhouse.  Shadow  and 
Robby  Hood  were  just  ready  to  leave  in  their  launch. 
They  came  back  with  me,  and  we  went  into  my  little 
writing  office  and  I  told  them  what  the  Judge  said  to 
me. 

"It's  fine  for  him  to  try  to  help,"  said  Shadow 
Loomis,  "but  it  won't  do  any  good.  Nobody  in  Water- 
town  knows  where  those  boys  have  their  headquarters. 
If  they  did  the  Sheriff  up  there  could  have  caught  'em 
long  ago — or  at  least  a  few  of  'em." 

"Don't  you  know  all  their  names,  Shadow?"  I 
asked. 

"No,"  he  answered.  "I  don't  know  any  but  Har- 
kinson  and  Androfski — those  two  always  stuck  to- 
gether." 

"I  was  in  their  headquarters  last  year,"  said  Robby 
Hood ;  "that  was  the  old  place  in  the  old  wbarfboat.  But, 
since  the  time  they  broke  the  big  plate-glass  window 
in  that  Main  Street  store,  they  moved  out  of  their  old 
headquarters,  and  nobody  has  been  able  to  find  out 
where  they  moved  to.  But  the  time  I  was  in  their  old 
headquarters  I  noticed  they  had  a  printed  list  of  the 
names  of  the  Red  Runners,  showing  each  one's  number, 
you  know." 

255 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Ah,"  said  Shadow,  "if  we  could  only  find  out  where 
they  meet — " 

We  heard  a  shouting  in  the  hollow — our  boys  were 
yelling  and  running.  The  next  instant  we  heard  the 
front  door  of  the  clubhouse  open  quickly  and  slammed 
shut  again.  I  stepped  through  the  curtains  of  my  office 
doorway  and  looked  out  into  our  meeting  room. 

A  Red  Runner  stood  there.  He  was  peeping  out 
of  the  corner  of  the  front  window. 

"Well,  hello!"  I  said. 

The  Red  Runner  turned  like  a  flash.  He  wore  a 
"7"  on  his  sleeve.  It  was  Lasky. 

"Listen!"  he  said,  holding  his  finger  to  his  lips.  I 
heard  the  sound  of  our  boys  outside,  shouting  and  yell- 
ing as  they  ran  past.  "They'll  not  come  in  here," 
said  Lasky.  "They  wouldn't  think  I'd  dare  to  hide 
in  here,  would  they?" 

"Lasky,"  I  said,  "it  seems  as  though  it  doesn't 
make  any  difference.  We  can't  let  you  go,  you  know. 
Not  this  time." 

"All  right,"  he  said,  "just  so  they  don't  get  their 
hands  on  me.  That  big  Jerry  fella  hates  me.  Him  and 
the  others  would  give  me  an  awful  licking,  Hawkins, 
and  I  know  you  will  play  fair  with  me.  I  was  just  trying 
to  get  to  my  boat.  I  would  have  gotten  away  if  I  hadn't 
slipped.  It's  muddy  there  on  the  side  of  the  hollow." 

"You've  been  spying  again,  eh,  Lasky?" 

"Yes,  it  was  my  turn.  I  had  to  come.  It's  the  first 
time  I  had  a  turn  spying  since  the  time  you  let  me  go, 
Hawkins." 

"You're  going  to  the  Sheriff  this  time,  Lasky," 
I  said. 

He  gave  me  one  look.  Oh,  boy!  I  wish  he  hadn't 
given  me  that  one  look.  It  made  me  feel  sorry  for  Lasky. 

256 


257 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

He  didn't  seem  to  me  as  bad  as  the  other  Red  Runners. 
He  wasn't  as  big  as  the  others.  I  thought,  maybe,  he 
had  a  mother  somewhere — 

"Lasky,"  I  said,  "where'd  you  come  from — where's 
your  home?" 

"Down  in  Kentucky — I  lived  in  the  country  before 
I  came  to  Watertown." 

"Came  up  here  to  get  a  city  job,  didn't  you?  Yes, 
I  know.  Then  you  met  this  Red  Runner  gang,  and  just 
went  from  bad  to  worse.  Is  your  mother  living?" 

"I  ain't  heard  for  nearly  a  year,  Hawkins."  Lasky 's 
voice  was  low. 

"She'd  be  mighty  proud  of  you,  wouldn't  she,  Lasky, 
if  she  knew  where  you  were  and  what  you  were  doing 
instead  of  having  a  good  job  and  working  honest. 
Wouldn't  she  be  happy  to  know?" 

Lasky  looked  down  upon  the  floor.  He  couldn't 
look  me  in  the  face  when  I  told  him  that.  I  knew  it 
hurt  him,  but  I  wanted  it  to.  I  felt  sorry  for  Lasky. 

"Lasky,"  I  continued,  "it  ain't  too  late  for  you  to  save 
yourself.  You're  only  a  kid — there's  a  big  life  ahead  of 
you.  I'll  give  you  one  more  chance  to  get  away,  Seventh- 
in-Line  Lasky.  Will  you  listen  to  me?" 

"Don't  ask  me  to  squeal  on  the  Red  Runners,  Haw- 
kins," he  said,  looking  up.  "I  ain't  the  best  fella  on 
earth,  but  that  ain't  ever  been  said  about  me  yet.  I 
won't  snitch." 

"No,"  I  said  to  him,  "I  won't  ask  you  to  give  away 
any  secrets.  I've  got  one  thing  to  ask  of  you  if  you  want 
to  go  free.  What  do  you  say?" 

Lasky  dropped  his  head  on  one  shoulder,  as  if  he  were 
tired,  and  sat  down  in  our  Captain's  chair. 

"I  don't  care  what  happens  any  more,"  he  said,  in  a 
tired  voice.  "I  ain't  had  much  fun  out  of  life,  Hawkins." 

258 


LASKY    GOES    HOME 

"Well,  listen  to  me,  Lasky,"  I  said.  "Cut  loose  from 
this  Red  Runner  gang.  Make  up  your  mind  to  quit 
right  now.  Go  back  to  your  mother — " 

Seventh-in-Line  Lasky  started  up. 

"That's  where  I  belong,"  he  said.  "She  ain't  seen 
me  for  more  'n  a  year — " 

"Go  back  to  her,  boy,"  I  said.  "Wherever  she  is — take 
off  that  red  jacket  and  put  on  a  plain  one  and  go  back 
home  where  you  belong." 

Lasky  looked  at  me  for  a  minute  without  speaking. 
Then  his  eyes  wandered  over  to  where  Shadow  and  Robby 
Hood  stood. 

"They're  all  right,"  I  said.  "What  I  say  goes.  What 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

Lasky 's  lips  parted  as  if  he  wanted  to  say  something; 
but  no  words  came.  Instead  there  came  tears  in  his 
eyes,  and  he  bowed  his  head  on  his  arm  and  leaned 
upon  the  table.  I  made  a  motion  to  Shadow  and  Robby 
and  we  moved  back  into  my  little  writing  room  and  left 
the  Seventh-in-Line  alone  to  make  up  his  mind.  We 
could  hear  him  sobbing  in  the  other  room,  and  I  knew 
the  poor  kid  felt  awful. 

"You  did  right,  Hawkins,"  whispered  Shadow  Loomis. 
"It  wouldn't  have  done  any  good  to  turn  him  over«to 
the  Sheriff." 

No  one  said  a  word  after  that.  The  little  old  brass 
clock  on  my  desk  ticked  away  the  minutes,  and  we  all 
stood  around  trying  to  think  of  something  cheerful. 
The  silence  was  broken  at  last  by  the  sound  of  our  boys 
outside  coming  back  again  thinking  that  Lasky  had  es- 
caped them. 

"Here,  Hawkins." 

Lasky  stood  between  the  curtains  of  my  doorway 
holding  out  his  red  sweater.  He  had  taken  it  off.  He 

259 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

had  made  up  his  mind  to  cut  loose  from  the  Red 
Runners. 

"Now,  I'm  going,"  he  said.  "You'll  never  have  any- 
thing to  blame  me  for  again." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Shadow  Loomis.  He  pulled 
off  his  cap  and  coat,  and  then  drew  over  his  head  the 
black-and-white  sweater  that  he  wore.  "Here,  Lasky,"  he 
said,  "it's  cold.  You'll  need  something  to  keep  you 
warm.  I'll  trade  you." 

Lasky  accepted  the  black-and-white  sweater,  and 
both  Shadow  and  Robby  helped  him  on  with  it.  He 
had  no  sooner  finished  putting  it  on  when  we  heard  our 
boys  rush  up  on  the  front  steps.  Shadow  snatched  the  red 
sweater  out  of  my  hand  and  threw  it  behind  my  desk. 
Robby  and  Shadow  stepped  up  in  front  of  Lasky  so 
that  they  hid  him  out  of  sight. 

Jerry  Moore  led  the  boys  in.  "His  footprints  led 
up  to  the  porch,"  he  was  saying  to  them.  "We  were  fools 
not  to  look  for  that  in  the  first  place.  Hello,  Hawkins, 
how  long  you  been  here?" 

"All  the  time,"  I  answered,  "ever  since  the  meeting." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Jerry,  "there's  a  Red  Runner  hid- 
ing in  here  somewhere.  He  fooled  us,  but  we  came  back 
and  followed  his  tracks.  They  led  right  to  the  porch 
here.  He  must  'a'  come  in.  Where  is  he?" 

"Nobody  wearing  a  Red  Runner's  sweater  is  in  this 
clubhouse,"  I  said. 

Jerry  scratched  his  head  and  looked  sore.  The  other 
boys  crowded  behind  him.  Then  Jerry  walked  over  to 
Shadow  and  Robby.  "Ah,  what's  this?"  he  said.  "I 
see.  Stand  aside,  you  fellas." 

They  stepped  aside.  Lasky  stood  forth,  but  no  longer 
Seventh-in-Line.  He  was  a  different  boy  in  the  black- 

260 


LASKY    GOES    HOME 

and-white  sweater.  Jerry  Moore  looked  him  full  in  the 
face  for  a  minute,  then  his  glance  fell  upon  the  black-and- 
white  sweater. 

"You're  sure  there  is  no  Red  Runner  here,  Hawkins?" 
he  said  to  me. 

"Quite  sure,"  I  answered,  "there  is  no  Red  Runner 
here  now." 

Jerry  nodded  his  head.  Then  he  turned  to  the  other 
boys. 

"Stand  back  there,"  he  ordered.  "Let  this  fella  have 
plenty  of  room." 

They  fell  back  and  formed  a  line  on  either  side. 
Lasky  stepped  forward  quickly,  and  walked  through  the 
lines.  He  carried  his  cap  in  his  hand,  and  his  head  was 
bent  down.  At  the  door  he  paused,  then  he  turned 
and  looked  back  at  us. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "It  looks  like  it's 
going  to  snow.  What  a  fine  Christmas  it'll  be.  And  I'm 
going  home — I'll  be  there  in  time  to  wish  her  a  Merry 
Christmas,  Hawkins." 

Then  he  was  gone.  Through  the  window  we  watched 
him  as  he  flew  down  the  river  path  to  his  boat  that  he 
had  hidden  somewhere,  and  I  waited  to  see  which  way 
he  would  go.  He  dodged  out  of  sight  for  a  few  minutes. 
When  he  appeared  again  he  was  in  his  boat  on  the  river, 
rowing  fast.  And  it  was  not  going  to  Watertown. 

Jerry  came  over  and  shook  my  hand.  "Good,  old 
Hawkins,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"You  understand  how  it  was,  Jerry?"  I  asked. 

He  nodded.  "I  know  your  ways,  Seckatary,"  he 
said. 

While  we  were  talking  I  watched  Shadow  Loomis 
out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  as  he  backed  toward  my  desk 

261 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

and  stooped  for  something  on  the  floor.  He  had  his  back 
turned  as  he  buttoned  up  his  coat,  but  I  knew  he  was 
hiding  Lasky's  old  red  sweater  under  his  jacket. 

"We've  got  to  be  going,"  he  said.  "You  fellas  might 
as  well  walk  down  to  the  boat  and  see  us  off." 

Which  we  did. 


262 


XXVI 

A  Bag  of  Toys 

CHRISTMAS  EVE!  How  pleasant  it  sounded  as 
I  said  it  to  myself  on  my  way  down  to  our  head- 
quarters after  supper.  The  snow  was  flying  thick 
and  fast,  and  it  sure  seemed  like  old  times.  As  I  neared 
the  clubhouse  in  the  hollow  I  could  see  through  the  win- 
dow the  tiny  lights  of  the  candles  on  the  Christmas  tree 
that  the  boys  had  set  up  and  I  knew  the  boys  were  al- 
ready there,  because  I  heard  the  opening  strains  of 
Adeste  Fideles  as  Lew  Hunter  began  to  play  the  or- 
gan. It  was  the  Latin  song  we  had  been  practicing  for 
the  last  two  weeks;  the  preacher  had  asked  Lew  to  teach 
us  that  song  so  we  could  sing  it  early  Christmas  morning 
in  the  church. 

I  waited  there  by  the  door  until  the  end  of  the  song. 
Then  I  clapped  my  hands. 

"Fine,  fellas,"  I  said,  "you  certainly  have  taught 
them  their  parts,  Lew.  Golly,  but  you  sure  can  sing 
low  notes  loud,  Jerry." 

"It  will  sound  better  with  you,  Hawkins,"  said  Lew. 
"Come  on,  try  this  second  verse.  We  will  sing  two,  you 
know,  in  the  morning." 

Well,  we  sang  the  next  verse,  but  I  didn't  notice 
that  my  voice  made  any  difference,  except  maybe  it 
made  the  singing  a  little  worse  than  it  was  without  me, 
but  it  was  suddenly  stopped  by  the  sound  of  a  bell  out- 
side, and  before  we  could  get  to  the  door  it  opened  and  in 
came  Doc  Waters,  dressed  up  like  Santa  Claus. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  hollered,  grinning  at  us,  "how  do  I 
look,  hey?  Got  to  play  Santa  Claus  for  Ben  Bigstaff's 

263 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

little  kids,  so  I  thought  I'd  drop  in  here  first  and  see  that 
you  fellas  got  a  present,  too.  How  do  I  look,  Hawkins, 
old  boy?" 

"Fine,  Doc,"  I  said,  "I  always  knew  you  would  make 
a  good  Santy  Glaus.  Gee,  Ben  Bigstaff's  kids  will  be 
tickled  when  they  see  you.  What  you  got  in  the  sack?" 

"Oh,  toys  and  trinkets  and  things  the  kids  like," 
said  Doc,  putting  down  the  big  pack  on  a  chair.  "See  if 
you  can  fasten  the  strap  on  my  shoulder,  boys.  Now, 
when  I  stoop  down.  Wait  a  minute,  don't  put  that  bell 
in  the  bag.  Got  to  have  that  to  wake  the  kids  up  with 
when  I  come.  Here,  git  out  o'  that,  Bill  Darby.  What 
you  so  anxious  to  close  her  up  for?  Wait  till  I  git  this 
— clumsy  bundle — out.  There  y'are.  You  pass  'em 
around,  Hawkins.  One  for  every  fella  in  the  clubhouse — 
Shadow  Loomis  and  Robby  Hood,  too.  Good-night, 
and  a  Merry  Christmas  to  you  all." 

"Good-night,  Doc,"  we  all  hollered  at  once.  "Same 
to  you,  Doc.  Thank  y*  very  much,  Doc." 

And  with  his  pack  on  his  back  old  Santa  Claus  Doc 
Waters  went  out  into  the  snowstorm.  We  all  crowded 
around  as  Bill  Darby  untied  the  bundle  and  took  out  of 
it  a  lot  of  the  finest  pocket-knives  we  had  ever  seen,  and 
each  boy  had  his  name  carved  in  the  handle.  Just  like 
good  old  Doc;  always  a  friend  of  us  boys.  We  never 
had  a  better  friend  than  Doc  Waters.  I  put  the  two 
knives  aside  for  Shadow  and  Robby,  for  I  expected 
them  to  show  up.  I  didn't  think  they  would  pass  us  up 
on  Christmas  Eve. 

"Put  new  candles  on  the  tree,  fellas,"  said  our  Cap- 
tain, "these  have  burned  low;  don't  let  'em  burn  too 
low  or  they  might  set  the  tree  afire." 

It  must  have  been  about  half  an  hour  later  when, 
just  as  we  were  ending  up  the  old  shepherd's  song, 

264 


A   BAG   OF   TOYS 

Shadow  Loomis  and  Hobby  Hood  came  in.  Robby 
rushed  in  first  and  held  the  door  open  while  Shadow 
dragged  in  some  heavy  thing.  As  soon  as  he  had  it  in  the 
light  I  saw  it  was  the  pack  of  toys  that  good  old  Doc 
Waters  had  on  his  back  when  he  left. 

"Good-night,  Shadow!"  I  exclaimed,  "what's  this 
mean?  How'd  you  come  by  that  bag  o'  toys?"  Shadow 
gave  one  of  his  funny  little  laughs,  while  Robby  Hood 
blurted  out : 

"We  swiped  it  out  of  a  cheese  hole  somebody  has  on 
Burney's  Field." 

"Red  Runners,"  said  Shadow.  "We  followed  a  bunch 
of  'em  down  here.  Had  a  chance  to  follow  'em  and  they 
went  for  Burney's  Field.  You  can  see  their  bonfire  from 
here.  Got  a  Christmas  tree  and  every  thing;  but  you'd 
never  know  it  lest  somebody  would  lead  you  to  it.  We 
found  this  pack  o'  toys  hidden  there.  What  would  they 
be  doing  with  it?  Must  of  swiped  it,  I  says  to  Robby,  so 
we  just  brought  it  along  until  we  could  find  somebody 
who  lost  it." 

"I  can  tell  you  that  quick  enough,"  I  said.  And 
then  I  told  them  about  Doc  coming  in  dressed  as  Santa 
Glaus,  to  take  these  toys  to  Ben  Bigstaff's  kids.  "Now, 
what  I  want  to  know,  Shadow,"  I  said,  "is  how  they  got 
hold  of  Doc's  bag  of  toys,  when  we  know  we  strapped 
it  to  his  shoulder  so  it  wouldn't  come  off  easy." 

Before  Shadow  could  answer  there  was  a  pounding 
on  the  door,  a  pounding  as  if  somebody  wanted  to  break 
it  down.  Jerry  Moore  rushed  to  the  door  and  pulled  it 
open.  Into  the  room,  without  waiting  to  be  asked, 
walked  a  Red  Runner — walked  right  up  to  the  table  and 
stood  there  beside  the  Christmas  tree. 

It  was  Androfski  the  Silent.  Under  his  beak  of  a 
nose  his  lips  curved  into  a  smile  like  a  little  half  moon. 

265 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

He  stood  still,  his  rifle  resting  in  the  crook  of  his  arm.  He 
waited  for  me  to  say  something.  We  were  all  a  little 
excited,  but  I  tried  not  to  show  how  excited  I  was. 

"Merry  Christmas,  Androfski,"  I  said;  "sounded 
like  you  was  trying  to  break  our  door  down." 

His  lips  moved.  He  replied  something,  but  I  could 
not  hear  his  voice. 

"Watch  his  lips,  Hawkins,"  said  Shadow  in  a  whis- 
per; "you  can't  hear  his  voice." 

I  stepped  up  closer  and  turned  my  ear  to  his  lips. 

"What  did  you  say?"  I  asked. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  I  heard  Androfski  speak 
and  I  knew  why  they  called  him  Androfski  the  Silent.  His 
voice  was  like  a  thin  whisper.  I  could  just  barely  make 
out  his  words,  but  I  missed  every  other  syllable — 

"You— watch  my  lips—"  I  heard.  "That's  how- 
others — understand — " 

Ah!  poor  old  Androfski.  In  spite  of  all  that  I  had 
heard  of  his  wicked  deeds  I  felt  sorry  for  the  Silent 
Third-in-Line.  I  stepped  back  and  watched  his  face. 
Shadow  Loomis  tried  to  step  up  to  him,  but  I  saw 
Shadow's  fists  were  doubled  up  and  I  pulled  him  back 
by  my  side. 

"Go  on,  Androfski,"  I  said;  "I  will  watch  your  lips. 
Speak  slowly." 

"Thanks,"  his  lips  said  to  me;  I  had  thought  it  would 
be  hard  for  me  to  understand  him,  but  I  was  surprised 
how  easily  I  could  see  him  say  "thanks."  He  spoke  very 
slow. 

"Your  boys  have  stolen  from  us.  This  is  Christmas. 
We  do  not  care  to  have  any  trouble  with  you  on  this  night. 
Christmas  means  the  same  to  us  as  it  does  to  you. 
You  are  fair-minded;  you  won't  let  them  keep  what  they 
have  stolen,  Hawkins." 

266 


TrfE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Don't  let  him  get  away  with  that  soft  talk,  Haw- 
kins," said  Shadow  Loomis;  "make  him  lay  down  that 
gun  and  him  and  I  will  settle  our  old  fight  right 
here." 

"Easy,  Shadow,"  I  said.  "It's  Christmas.  Look 
here,  Androfski,  is  this  the  stuff  my  boys  have  taken 
from  you?"  I  pointed  to  the  bag  of  toys. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  silent  one  in  his  silent  way,  "they 
took  that  away  from  us." 

"Well,  then,"  I  said,  "we  happen  to  know  this  bag 
o'  toys.  How  did  you  come  by  it?" 

I  watched  for  a  reply  on  those  silent  lips,  but  none 
came.  The  grin  disappeared  from  Androfski's  face 
and  his  lips  were  pressed  shut  in  a  thin  line. 

"Androfski,"  I  said,  "we  think  you've  stolen  this 
bag  yourselves.  We  will  let  you  tell  the  Sheriff  where 
you  got  it.  You  are  our  prisoner,  Androfski.  Lock  that 
door,  Jerry." 

As  if  the  wind  had  pushed  it,  the  door  opened  be- 
fore Jerry  could  get  to  it  and  in  walked  Harkinson — 
yes,  the  old  hypnotizer  himself,  dressed  hi  red  sweater 
and  cap. 

"Merry  Christmas,  all,"  he  said  with  that  old  smile 
that  I  had  first  seen  last  summer  upon  the  island.  "I 
hope  you  are  glad  to  see  me.  I  heard  everything  you 
said  to  Androfski;  he's  my  pal,  you  know,  and  if  you 
really  mean  to  turn  him  over  to  your  Sheriff,  I  hope  you 
will  take  me  with  him.  He  can't  talk,  you  know.  I 
always  like  to  stay  close  by  Androfski,  I  do.  We're 
awful  good  pals,  me  and  him." 

Now,  I  don't  know  what  it  is  about  Harkinson  that 
makes  us  feel  strange  when  he  is  near  us,  but  I  tell  you 
that  the  minute  he  stepped  in  we  all  fell  back  as  if  a 

268 


A    BAG    OF    TOYS 

powerful  wind  had  struck  us.  I  jumped  up,  however, 
and  yelled: 

"Get  around  them,  fellas!  Don't  let  them  get  a 
chance  to  get  out.  Harkinson,  you'll  get  your  wish. 
To-night  both  of  you  go  up  to  the  Sheriff's  office.  I'm 
sorry  it  had  to  be  on  Christmas  Eve,  that's  all." 

Harkinson,  standing  beside  Androfski,  turned  and 
grinned  at  me. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  my  dear  Seckatary,"  he  said,  "I 
know  when  the  jig's  up.  We  are  in  your  hands.  I  ain't 
kicking  about  nothing." 

Jerry,  Bill,  and  Johnny  had  hurried  around  to  the 
front.  We  were  surrounding  the  two  Red  Runners. 
"Get  some  rope,  Roy  Dobel,"  ordered  our  Captain; 
"I'll  take  your  gun,  Androfski." 

Androfski  handed  over  the  rifle  and  as  he  did  so 
I  saw  the  words  "Christmas  gift"  form  on  his  lips; 
then  he  smiled  that  little  half -moon  smile  under  his  beak 
nose.  Jerry  must  not  have  locked  the  door  very  tight, 
for  a  sudden  strong  wind  blew  it  open  and  a  bushel  of 
snowflakes  blew  in.  I  turned  my  eyes  quick  enough  to 
see  Harkinson  jerk  his  old  brass  horn  from  under  bis 
red  sweater,  and  raising  it  to  his  lips,  blew  two  loud  blasts 
upon  it  before  any  of  us  could  get  to  it.  I  yelled.  Shadow 
Loomis  sprang  at  Androfski.  Jerry  Moore  flung  both 
arms  around  Harkinson,  but  the  two  Red  Runners 
laughed  loud  and  shoved  us  aside. 

"Change  your  mind,  Seckatary,"  laughed  Harkinson; 
"my  boys  have  heard  that  sound  of  the  horn.  They'll 
all  be  here  in  three  minutes — I  told  'em  to  wait  right 
under  the  trees  outside — by  golly,  here  they  are  now." 

And  they  came.  Golly  Moses,  how  they  came! 
Three  at  a  time  they  leaped  into  that  door.  What 

269 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

chance  had  we  against  that  army  of  red-jackets?  Jerry 
and  Shadow  flew  again  at  Androfski  and  Harkinson.  I 
saw  two  Red  Runners  leap  upon  Dick  Ferris,  and  I  also 
noticed  that  Perry  Stokes  and  Bill  Darby  were  trying 
to  help  Roy  Dobel  out  of  a  swarm  of  redcoats.  That's 
about  all  I  had  time  to  see,  for  the  next  second  three 
of  'em  were  on  me,  mauling  me  and  dragging  me  down. 
I  went  down;  what  use  to  try  to  stand  up?  Not  with  all 
that  weight  on  me.  I'd  rather  fight  wildcats  than  Red 
Runners.  For  a  minute  I  felt  their  fists  pounding  on 
me  and  then  I  got  a  kick  in  the  ribs  from  a  Red  Runner's 
boot  and  I  rolled  into  a  corner  to  get  out  of  the  way  of 
that  pushing  and  shoving  bunch,  the  noise  of  whose 
feet  on  the  floor  sounded  like  the  stamping  of  horses. 

I  remember  hearing  shouting  outside.  I  remember 
even  that  I  thought  somebody  was  yelling  "Hawkins,"  but 
I  couldn't  tell  for  certain;  not  hi  that  noise  and  clatter 
of  the  fight  could  you  hear  anything  for  certain,  but  I 
do  know  that  all  at  once  Harkinson's  brass  horn  rang 
out  again — three  blasts  it  sounded,  short  and  snappy — 
the  signal  for  alarm,  telling  the  Red  Runners  to  run 
and  live  up  to  their  name.  Like  a  drove  they  stampeded 
out  into  the  night.  Over  went  the  Christmas  tree.  I 
hurried  out  of  my  corner  and  yelled  for  some  of  the  fellows 
to  come  and  help  me  with  the  tree.  Some  of  the  candles 
were  still  burning  and  they  set  fire  to  the  tree.  Dick 
Ferris  came  and  helped  me  with  the  tree  and  we  stamped 
out  the  fire.  It  almost  ruined  the  tree,  but  we  shoved 
it  up  again  in  its  place,  after  all  the  candles  were  out. 
I  wondered  why  the  others  had  not  come  to  help,  too, 
but  when  I  turned  I  saw  the  reason. 

Perry  Stokes,  Johnny  McLarren,  and  Lew  Hunter 
were  sitting  on  a  big,  husky  Red  Runner,  who  looked  like 
he  was  sorry  he  ever  came  into  our  clubhouse.  Roy  Dobel 

270 


A    BAG    OF    TOYS 

• 

and  Bill  Darby  had  a  fellow  cornered  over  under  our 
coat  hooks,  and  Hobby  Hood  and  Shadow  Loomis 
had  one  tangled  up  in  the  curtains  between  the  meeting 
room  and  my  writing  office. 

"Good-night!"  I  yelled,  "where's  Jerry  Moore? 
Did  they  take  him?" 

"No,  you  big  boob,"  came  Jerry's  voice  from  under 
the  table,  "I  got  a  red  boy  under  here  and  he's  too  big 
for  me.  Come  and  help  me  if  you  don't  want  him  to 
get  away." 

"Halloo!"  came  a  call  from  the  porch.  And  there, 
in  the  door  stood  the  Sheriff  and  Santa  Glaus — Doc 
Waters,  I  mean,  dressed  like  Santa  Glaus.  Doc  was  lean- 
ing upon  the  Sheriff  and  they  walked  slow.  Two  other 
men  stood  outside;  they  were  the  Sheriff's  men. 

"Merry  Christmas,  Sheriff,"  hollered  Jerry  Moore, 
poking  his  head  from  under  the  table.  "I've  got  a 
Christmas  gift  for  you  if  you'll  come  and  help  me  git 
him  out." 

The  Sheriff  laughed.  I  noticed  Doc  Waters  limped 
as  he  walked  to  a  chair  and  sat  down. 

"We  heard  'em,  Hawkins,"  said  the  Sheriff,  "and 
they  heard  us  'hallooing'  for  you;  that's  what  made  'em 
run,  when  they  heard  us  coming,  but  you've  got  four 
of  'em,  heh?  Oh,  Judge  Granbery  will  be  glad  to  know 
this.  It's  a  merry  Christmas,  ain't  it,  boys?" 

He  lined  up  the  four  captured  Red  Runners.  We 
did  not  find  out  their  names,  but  I  made  a  note  of  their 
numbers  on  their  sleeves;  Number  14  was  the  one 
Jerry  had  caught  under  the  table;  Number  8,  Shadow 
Loomis  and  Robby  Hood  had  tied  with  the  door  cur- 
tains; Number  18,  Perry  and  Johnny  and  Lew  had  sat 
upon;  Number  6,  Roy  Dobel  and  Bill  Darby  had  cor- 
nered under  our  coat  hangers.  The  Sheriff  whistled  out 

271 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

the  door  and  in  came  his  two  deputies  and  they  took  the 
Red  Runners  out. 

"They  came  for  me  just  as  I  left  the  clubhouse, 
Hawkins,"  said  Doc  Waters;  "they  must  have  known  I 
had  that  bag  o'  toys  for  the  Bigstaff  kids.  They  jumped 
on  me  like  a  pack  of  wolves — I  bet  you  there  must  have 
been  twenty  Red  Runners  in  that  gang.  No,  they  didn't 
hurt  me,  but  they  got  the  bag.  I  got  myself  to  blame  for 
nearly  breaking  my  leg.  I  was  fool  enough  to  run  after 
'em,  and  I  went  slam-bang  over  a  log;  it  was  all  white 
with  snow;  you  couldn't  tell  a  log  from  a  hole  in  the 
ground.  The  last  I  saw  of  'em  they  were  rowing  acrost 
the  river." 

"They've  got  a  hiding  place  on  Burney's  Field,"  I 
said. 

"Yeah,  I  guess  so,"  said  Doc,  rubbing  his  bruised 
leg,  "but  I  picked  myself  up  and  dragged  my  way  up  to 
the  main  road,  and  there  I  meets  Sheriff,  here,  and  I  tell 
him  about  it  and  he  brings  his  two  men  down  here  with 
me.  Seems  like  we  come  just  in  time.  Sounded  like 
you  all  were  having  a  hot  time  when  we  got  near  your 
clubhouse." 

We  all  laughed.  Doc  and  Sheriff  laughed,  too.  We 
told  'em  all  about  it. 

"It's  getting  late,"  I  said,  "the  boys  will  have  to  get 
up  early  to-morrow  morning  to  sing  in  church.  Do  you 
want  to  hear  a  song  before  you  go,  Doc?" 

We  sang  Adeste  Fideles  again.  I  saw  the  Sheriff 
snatch  his  hat  from  his  head  when  he  heard  us  begin. 
I  wondered  if  it  reminded  him  of  Christmas  when  he 
was  a  little  boy. 

"Holy  Smoke!"  exclaimed  Doc,  "there's  the  bag — my 
very  bag  full  of  toys  for  Ben  Bigstaff's  kids — Hawkins, 
they  didn't  get  it  after  all." 

272 


A    BAG    OF    TOYS 

Sure  enough.  There,  partly  hidden  under  the 
table,  lay  the  old  Santa  Glaus  pack. 

"It's  too  late  for  you  boys  to  do  any  more  to-night," 
said  Doc,  "but  the  first  thing  to-morrow  morning  you 
bring  that  pack  o'  toys  to  Ben  Bigstaff — tell  him  Santy 
Claus  had  an  accident." 

Which  we  did. 


273 


XXVII 

New  Year's  Eve 

"Ring  out,  wild  bells,  to  the  wild  sky, 
The  flying  cloud,  the  frosty  light; 
The  year  is  dying  in  the  night; 
Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die." 

I  RE  AD  those  words  over.  Somehow  they  made  me 
feel  sad.  Here  it  was  New  Year's  Eve,  and  we  had 
gathered  for  our  last  meeting  of  the  year  in  our 
old  clubhouse.  On  the  little  square  of  blackboard  on 
the  wall  beside  the  organ,  Lew  Hunter  had  chalked  the 
words  of  the  song  he  wanted  us  to  sing  to-night.  We 
had  only  practised  it  once,  and  that  was  in  the  afternoon, 
when  Perry  Stokes  brought  down  a  book  of  Tennyson's 
poems,  and  showed  us  the  piece.  Lew  Hunter  ad- 
mitted it  was  a  beautiful  song  to  sing,  and  the  only 
trouble  was  that  it  didn't  have  any  music  notes  to  it. 
But  Lew  is  a  born  music  master;  he  fished  through  all 
his  music  books,  and  finally  got  a  piece  of  music  that 
would  go  with  the  words.  So  we  practised  it  that  after- 
noon. But  it  takes  some  fellows  longer  to  memorize 
words;  and  so  Lew  had  put  the  words  on  the  black- 
board. 

Well,  we  all  took  our  places,  and  held  a  little  meeting. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  I  looked  at  our  Captain  that  he 
seemed  a  little  sad.  I  felt  that  way,  too.  I  believe  we 
all  did.  We  had  a  good  time  in  the  year  that  was  dying. 
We  were  ready  to  greet  the  new  year  with  a  glad  hur- 
rah and  a  warm  hand,  but  hated  like  the  dickens  to 
let  go  of  the  old. 

274 


NEW    YEAR'S    EVE 

"The  last  meeting  of  the  year,"  pur  Captain  was 
saying:  "The  last  meeting  of  the  year  will  come  to 
order,  fellas.  It  was  a  good  year,  a  fine  year.  We  kept 
out  o'  trouble,  we  got  away  from  the  Red  Runners  every 
time,  and  one  more  thing,  we  got  our  Seckatary  back 
with  us  in  the  year  that's  about  to  put  on  its  hat  and 
say  good-bye  to  us." 

He  turned.    They  all  turned  and  smiled  at  me. 

"Forget  that  part,"  I  said;  "forget  it,  Dick." 

But  before  I  got  those  words  out  of  my  mouth  all 
of  those  good  old  friends  of  mine  were  on  their  feet 
and  shouting  "Hurrah!"  "Hurrah!"  they  shouted,  three 
times.  And  then  they  sat  down  together.  You  can't 
beat  that.  No,  sir.  I'm  Seckatary  of  a  bunch  of  fellows 
— might  be  the  same  kind  o'  kids  you  are,  might  be  as 
good  as  the  best  and  as  bad  as  the  worst,  but  let  me  tell 
you  there  ain't  any  better  kids  in  the  world — you  see 
how  they  stick  up  for  me — for  their  old  Seckatary, 
and  I  never  did  anything  for  them  to  talk  about — no,  sir, 
never  in  my  whole  life.  But  they — 

"Perry  Stokes  will  sing,"  said  Dick.  "Perry  will 
give  the  old  year  the  send-off.  You  boys  might  not  know 
it,  but  Perry  is  a  singer  in  a  class  by  himself.  I  never 
knew  it  myself.  But  Lew  Hunter  says  he  is  the  best 
singer  he  ever  knew,  and  Lew  knows  what  he  talks  about. 
When  Lew  gives  the  sign  we  will  all  join  in.  Step  up, 
Perry." 

Perry  Stokes  always  does  what  he  is  told.  No  mat- 
ter who  tells  him,  he  gets  right  up  and  does  it.  He  seems 
to  think  because  he  is  overseer  of  our  meeting  place 
every  one  of  us  boys  is  his  boss. 

He  sang  that  song;  that  wild-bells  song  that  says 
good-night  to  the  old  year,  and  tells  everybody  to  let 
the  poor  old  year  die  in  peace.  He  sang  it,  if  it  ever  was 

275 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

sung.  I  never  will  forget  how  he  sang.  Perry  has  a 
sort  of  hushy  voice;  maybe  you  don't  know  what  I  mean, 
but  his  voice  sounded  like  he  was  trying  to  sing  without 
waking  up  anybody.  Well,  and  with  that  hushy  voice, 
he  sang  that  strange  verse  about  the  wild  bells  that  ring 
out  in  the  frosty  night.  He  had  us  all  listening,  looking 
at  him,  as  if  we  wondered  how  he  could  sing  that  way. 
And  when  he  sang  "The  year  is  dying  in  the  night,"  he 
made  me  feel  as  if  was  really  happening — and  I  looked 
out  of  the  widow  into  the  night,  as  if  I  expected  to 
see  something  of  the  old  year  himself  shambling  off  to 
his  grave.  I  didn't,  of  course,  but  I  saw — 

Yes,  I  saw  something.  I  saw  faces  at  every  window; 
noses  pushed  against  frosted  panes,  dim,  yellow  faces  of  a 
dozen  Red  Runners  listening  to  that  song.  It  came 
time  for  us  all  to  join  in  the  singing,  and  I  took  my  eyes 
from  the  windows  and  sang  with  the  boys.  I  said  nothing 
at  all  of  what  I  had  seen.  But  I  knew.  I  knew  that  the 
place  was  surrounded  by  Red  Runners.  And  New 
Year's  Eve! 

After  the  meeting  I  asked  the  boys  to  stay  until  the 
bells  and  whistles  began  to  greet  the  new  year.  But  it 
seemed  like  all  the  fellows  had  something  else  to  do. 
Roy  Dobel  had  an  invitation  to  a  barn  dance;  Jerry 
Moore  said  his  folks  had  company  and  he  had  to  be 
home;  Bill  Darby  and  Johnny  McLarren  were  going 
to  a  party  at  some  girl's  house;  Dick  Ferris  said  he  never 
liked  to  hear  the  whistles  and  bells,  and  always  went  to 
bed  early  on  this  night;  Perry  Stokes  said  it  was  his 
pop's  night  off,  and,  of  course,  it  wasn't  more  than  right 
that  he  should  be  at  home. 

"Well,  Lew,"  I  said,  "Only  you  and  me  left.  I  knew 
I'd  have  one — " 

"Excuse  me,  Hawkins,"  said  Lew,  "but  you  know  I 
276 


NEW    YEAR'S    EVE 

have  to  play  the  chimes  to-night — the  preacher  wants  me 
to  be  there  at  quarter  to  twelve — " 

"Good-night,"  I  said,  "it's  only  nine  o'clock — " 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  I've  got  to  see  that  everything 
is  ready;  the  bell  ropes  got  to  be  tested  all  over 
and—" 

"Go  on,"  I  said.  "Get  out,  Lew,  you  might  be  too 
late  already." 

I  sighed  as  I  found  myself  all  alone  in  my  little  office 
in  the  clubhouse:  New  Year's  Eve!  Time  to  be  celebrat- 
ing. And  every  one  of  my  gang  left  me.  Fifteen  minutes 
ago  those  same  fellows  were  shouting  "hurrah"  for  their 
Seckatary.  Here  I  am  alone! 

"Ah,  well,"  I  said  to  myself,  "they're  only  kids; 
they've  got  to  have  some  good  times;  it's  only  a  grouchy 
Seckatary  fella  like  me  who — " 

But  then  I  suddenly  thought  of  something.  What 
of  those  pasty  faces  that  had  been  pressed  against  the 
window  panes  while  we  were  singing?  The  place  was 
surrounded  by  Red  Runners.  And  here  was  I  alone — 
what  if  Harkinson  and  Long  Tom  came,  and  took  me 
up  to  their  headquarters  to  torture  me — to  pay  me  back 
for  what  they  thought  I  had  been  to  blame  for? 

"Hawkins,  Hawkins." 

It  came  in  a  whisper  from  the  outer  room.  I  pushed 
through  the  curtains.  The  meeting  room  of  the  club- 
house was  dark.  Lew  had  been  the  last  to  leave  and 
turned  out  the  light.  Two  dark  forms  I  could  make  out 
in  the  shadowy  room.  My  heart  leaped  into  my  throat. 
At  once  I  believed  it  was  Harkinson  and  Long  Tom, 
or  Androfski. 

"Hawkins,"  came  the  whisper  again,  and  I  knew  it 
was  Shadow,  and  with  him  was  Robby  Hood.  "They're 
here — the  whole  Red  Runner  crew — every  last  one  of 

277 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

'em,  surrounding  the  place.  I  don't  know  what's  their 
game,  but — " 

"Come  in  here,"  I  ordered.  Shadow  and  Robby  came 
in.  Shadow  carried  under  his  arm  a  parcel  done  up  in 
brown  paper.  He  hurriedly  took  off  his  coat  and  un- 
wrapped the  brown  parcel.  I  saw  at  once  that  it  was 
the  red  sweater  that  Seventh-in-Line  Lasky  had  given 
us  when  he  cut  loose  from  the  Red  Runners. 

"Shadow!"  I  cried,  "you're  not  going — 

"Yeah,"  he  broke  in,  "you  guessed  it,  old  Seckatary. 
I'm  going  to  try  to  get  in  their  crowd  to-night.  I'll  look 
just  like  any  other  Red  Runner,  won't  I?" 

He  had  slipped  on  the  red  sweater  with  the  white 
number  "7"  on  the  sleeve,  and  turned  his  cap  around 
so  that  the  peak  was  in  back. 

"They'll  think  Lasky  has  come  back,"  he  said; 
"they'll  never  know  the  difference.  I'm  bound  to  fol- 
low them  and  find  out  their  secret  headquarters,  Haw- 
kins." 

"It's  risky  business,  Shadow,"  I  said. 

"I'm  used  to  risky  business,  Hawkins,"  he  said; 
"that's  the  kind  I  like  best.  This  is  going  to  be  fun  for 
me." 

"But  how  can  you  find  them?"  I  asked.  "Shadow, 
if  they're  scattered  all  through  these  woods — " 

"Listen!" 

Shadow  opened  the  door  a  trifle  and  peered  out. 
Over  the  frosty  night  air  came  the  sound  of  Harkinson's 
horn. 

"That's  my  call,"  said  Shadow  Loomis;  "now,  Haw- 
kins, I'm  off.  Keep  my  coat.  If  I  don't  come  back  for 
it—" 

"You'd  better  come  back  for  it,"  I  shouted  to  him 
as  he  leaped  out  of  the  door  into  the  dark.  I  heard  his 

278 


NEW    YEAR'S    EVE 

feet  sink  in  the  snow  as  he  landed.    Then  he  was  gone  like 
a  shadow. 

Robby  Hood  and  I  had  a  good  game  of  checkers  to- 
gether. In  fact,  we  had  several  games.  We  intended 
to  sit  up  until  the  wild  bells  began  to  ring  out  to  the  wild 
sky  that  the  old  year  was  dying.  It  must  have  been  nine- 
thirty  when  Shadow  left.  It  was  about  eleven  o'clock 
when  we  heard  a  step  upon  the  porch.  I  knew  it 
was  Shadow. 

He  came  in  hurriedly. 

"I've  got  it,  fellas,"  he  said. 

It  was  snowing.  His  red  sweater  was  almost  white 
with  snow.  He  started  to  pull  off  the  old  "7"  red  coat. 

"Got  what?"  I  asked. 

"This,"  he  said,  handing  me  a  sheet. 

I  unrolled  the  paper.  It  was  the  roll  call  of  the 
Red  Runners,  and  their  numbers.  Here  it  is : 

1,  Long  Tom;  2,  Harkinson;  3,  Androfski;  4,  Oder;  5, 
Jude;  6,  Crosby;  7,  Lasky;  8,  Fraley;  9,  Thrasher;  10, 
Bushelman;  11,  Grenofeld;  12,  Fisher;  13,  Wolf;  14, 
Spooring;  15,  Katman;  16,  Wills;  17,  Runge;  18,Thom- 
son. 

"Good-night,  Shadow,"  I  said,  "Judge  Granbery 
will  be  glad  to  have  this  list.  It's  the  whole  gang,  I 
guess." 

"Yep,  every  one,"  replied  Shadow.  "And  where 
do  you  think  they  meet,  Robby?" 

"Search  me,"  Robby  answered. 

"You  know  the  old  tobacco  warehouse — the  one 
the  high  water  always  reaches,  and  chased  the  tobacco 
people  out  of?" 

"Not  there?" 

"Yep — upstairs — they  own  the  whole  place.  No- 
279 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

body  goes  there  any  more,  you  know.  They've  got 
all  the  windows  covered  and  everything,  and  inside — 
say,  boy,  you  ought  to  see  the  fine  lamps,  the  chairs, 
the  carpets  on  the  floors.  Why,  Hawkins,  they've 
got  our  clubhouse  skinned  a  mile.  They  didn't  suspicion 
me  once — answered  my  name  every  time — Lasky. 
Asked  me  where  I'd  been  once,  Harkinson  did,  and  I 
told  him  home,  to  see  my  mother  for  Christmas.  That 
was  the  right  thing  to  say,  wasn't  it?" 

"Sure,"   I   said. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  thought,"  continued  Shadow 
Loomis;  "then  they  had  their  regular  meeting;  they're 
sore  as  the  dickens  at  you  fellas  for  catching  Crosby, 
Fraley,  Spooring,  and  Thompson  on  Christmas  Eve. 
They  talked  about  a  plan  to  help  them  escape  from  the 
Sheriff's  jail." 

"No  chance,"  I  said;  "the  Sheriff  has  already  sent 
them  to  the  school  where  they  will  have  to  stay  till  they 
learn  better  manners." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  said  Shadow;  "then  they 
had  a  regular  feast,  a  New  Year's  Eve  feast,  but,  honest 
tc  goodness,  Hawkins,  I  believe  they  must  have  stolen 
all  the  stuff  they  had  to  eat,  else  where  could  they  have 
gotten  chicken  and  ham  and  bread  and  cake  and  pie — 

"Sure,"  said  Robby;  "stolen.  Bakery  shops  and  such 
is  their  line.  They  fixed  up  for  their  feast — " 

"I  didn't  dare  to  stay  for  that,"  said  Shadow.  "I 
excused  myself.  I  took  a  chance  there.  Didn't  know  if 
Lasky  had  been  in  the  habit  of  excusing  himself  or  not. 
But  I  played  Lasky's  part  as  I  thought  he  would  have 
played  it,  and,  believe  me,  I  got  away  with  it.  The 
roll  call  of  their  gang  is  on  the  wall  in  the  hallway  just 
as  you  go  out.  I  had  this  paper  and  my  pencil  ready.  I 
just  copied  the  list  before  I  snuck  out,  Hawkins." 

280 


ANV  THEM  —  ~PEI?I?Y  STOKES'S 
HUSHV  VorcE  •.  *  KIM^  out  THE 
OLF,  T^IHG  IN  THE  MEW." 


281 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Fine  boy,  Shadow,"  I  said;  "Judge  Granbery  will 
give  you  a  reward  for  this." 

"Put  it  in  the  treasury  box  if  he  does,"  said  Shadow. 
"I  had  enough  fun  out  of  it  for  my  reward.  Believe  me, 
Hawkins,  I'm  going  to  try  it  again,  sometime." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't,  Shadow,"  I  said;  "it's  risky 
business." 

"I'm  used  to  risky  business,  Hawkins,"  said  Shadow, 
laughing;  "dern  if  I  could  have  any  fun  if  there  weren't 
something  risky  about  it." 

"Listen,  fellas." 

Ah,  yes,  boys,  we  listened.  How  peaceful — how  sweet 
was  the  sound  of  those  chimes  as  it  swung  over  the  mid- 
night air  to  us  that  lonesome  New  Year's  Eve — dear  old 
Lew  Hunter's  chimes,  playing  good-bye  to  the  old  year 
that  was  ticking  away  its  last  fifteen  minutes.  You 
fellas  think  we  didn't  have  any  feelings — I  wish  you'd 
seen  how  Shadow  and  Robby  snatched  off  their  caps 
and  bowed  their  heads,  as  the  soft  notes  of  those  steeple 
bells  brought  "Lead,  Kindly  Light,"  across  the  frosty, 
crisp  air  to  us.  "Throw  open  that  door,"  I  shouted, 
and  Shadow  stepped  up  to  open  the  door  so  that  the 
sound  could  come  clearer.  "Lead,  Kindly  Light, 
Amid  the  n'circling  Gloom — " 

Yeah !  We  followed  the  sound,  with  the  words  in  our 
mind.  Lead,  kindly  little  light  of  luck,  of  right,  of  good, 
of  whatever  you  want  to  think  it  is;  but  lead  us  again, 
as  you  did  in  the  year  just  passed,  through  trouble, 
through  sorrow,  through  care — ' 

"What's  that?" 

It  was  Robby  who  spoke.  Around  the  side  of  the 
clubhouse  footsteps  slushing  through  the  snow — the 
sound  you  could  never  mistake.  And  then — and 
then — Perry  Stoke's  hushy  voice: 

282 


NEW    YEAR'S    EVE 

"Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new, 
Ring  happy  bells  across  the  snow; 
The  year  is  going,  let  him  go; 
Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true.*' 

And  the  next  minute  they  had  all  leaped  on  the 
porch — would  you  believe  that  a  bunch  of  fellas  would 
think  that  much  of  you,  that  they  would  play  all  night 
long,  and,  then,  when  the  hour  of  the  new  year  comes, 
they  would  be  right  there  with  you?  But  there  they 
were — every  one  but  Lew  Hunter,  and  his  place  was 
filled  by  the  sound  of  those  chimes  that  he  was  playing 
for  us,  the  soft-toned  bells  that  sent  a  kindly  song  to 
us  from  the  church  steeple. 

Quickly  they  came  in — we  had  much  to  tell  them. 
Shadow  repeated  what  be  had  seen  and  heard  in  the 
Red  Runners'  headquarters,  and  they  all  sat  and  won- 
dered until  he  had  finished.  When  he  had  done  so, 
the  chimes  had  stopped. 

"Happy  New  Year,  fellas,"  I  yelled,  "it's  after 
twelve—" 

"And  time  to  be  going,"  said  Robby;  "come,  Shadow, 
that  old  engine  might  not  work — " 

But  the  engine  did  work,  and  we  waited  there  on  the 
river  bank  until  we  saw  their  little  launch  disappear 
around  the  upper  bend.  Then — 

"Come  on,  fellas,"  I  said,  "to-morrow  we  will  have 
our  first  meeting  in  the  new  year.  It's  time  for  us  all 
to  get  some  sleep." 

Which  we  did. 


283 


XXVIII 

A  Rolling  Stone 

ONE  afternoon  after  school,  we  had  held  our  meeting, 
and  all  of  us  boys  were  amusing  ourselves  in  the 
clubhouse  playing  checkers  and  drawing  on  the 
blackboard,  Lew  Hunter,  playing  the  organ,  and  some 
fellows  singing,  and  just  having  a  quiet,  good  time,  be- 
cause it  was  too  cold  to  go  out.  Jerry  Moore  had  the 
stove  roaring,  and  it  was  fine  and  warm  in  the  little 
clubhouse.  It  had  been  snowing  all  day  and  the  ground 
was  covered  almost  knee  deep.  I  was  sitting  in  my  little 
office  behind  the  meeting  room,  writing  the  minutes  of 
the  meeting,  when  I  heard  the  door  opened  and  Bill 
Darby's  voice  say,  "Yes,  he  belongs  to  our  club,  but  he 
ain't  here  now." 

I  got  up  and  walked  into  the  meeting  room. 

"Tell  him  to  come  in,  Bill,"  said  Dick  Ferris. 

A  young  fellow  entered,  a  ragged-looking  somebody, 
older  than  any  of  us  boys,  but  yet  he  was  only  a  boy. 
He  wore  only  a  ragged  felt  hat,  a  blue  shirt,  a  thin,  worn 
coat  and  a  pair  of  long,  torn  trousers. 

"You  say  he  does  come  down  here  sometimes?" 
he  asked,  turning  to  Bill  Darby. 

"Yes,  sometimes.  Here,  Hawkins,  you  better  talk 
to  him.  He's  asking  about  Shadow." 

"My  name's  Loomis,"  he  said,  looking  at  me.  "I 
thought  maybe  I'd  see  Shadow  here — fellas  down  the 
river  said  they  saw  him  with  you  boys  sometimes." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "he  may  come  down  to-day,  but  I 
hardly  think  he  will,  because  the  snow's  so  deep.  If 
it  ain't  personal — " 

"He's  my  brother,"  said  the  ragged  stranger;  "I 
284 


A    ROLLING    STONE 

ain't  been  home  the  last  few  years;  I  ain't  never  had 
much  use  for  home;  but  sometimes  I  git  a  notion  in  my 
head  that  I  want  to  see  that  kid  brother  o'  mine — he's 
a  nice  kid,  Shadow  is,  ain't  he?" 

"We  think  so,"  I  answered.  "Maybe  you  would 
like  to  sit  at  the  stove  and  get  warm?  Shadow  might 
come.  I  wish  you  would  stay.  I  know  he  wants  to  see 

you." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  because,"  I  answered,  "if  I  had  a  big  brother 
like  you,  I'd  want  to  take  a  look  at  him  once  in  a  while — 
even  if — " 

"Go  on,"  said  the  ragged  one;  "go  on,  say  it.  You 
might  as  well  knock  me,  too.  Most  everybody  does. 
Nobody's  said  a  word  much  for  me,  except  maybe 
Shadow.  That's  why  I  ran  away  from  home." 

"Ah!"  I  said,  "so  that's  how  it  came  about,  eh? 
Well,  I  hope  Shadow  comes." 

Then  no  more  was  said.  The  stranger  seated  him- 
self by  the  stove  to  get  warm  and  the  boys  went  on  with 
their  pastimes,  while  I  went  back  to  my  writing. 

Shadow  did  not  come  that  afternoon. 

One  by  one  the  boys  left  for  home.  At  last  I  was 
left  alone  with  the  ragged  one. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  must  be  going.  I  hope  you  will 
make  yourself  at  home.  You'll  have  to  hike  out  and 
dig  up  some  firewood  if  you  want  to  keep  warm,  though. 
We  don't  keep  very  much  on  hand.  You'll  be  able  to 
find  some  down  on  the  bank." 

"No thin'  but  snow  down  there  now,"  he  said; 
"but  I'm  used  to  the  cold.  I  don't  seem  to  mind  it 
much  any  more.  If  you  boys  don't  mind  I'll  thank  you 
for  lettin'  me  stay  in  this  little  shack.  It  beats  sleeping 
out  in  the  snow." 

285 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"You  mean  you  want  to  sleep  in  here  all  night?" 
I  asked. 

"That  is,  if  you  boys  don't  mind,"  he  said. 

I  walked  up  close  to  him  and  looked  into  his  face. 

"Listen,"  I  said,  "are  you  sure  you  are  Shadow 
Loomis's  brother?" 

"I  ain't  never  told  a  lie  yet,  boy,"  he  replied  with  a 
steady  look  at  me;  "I  guess  they  don't  think  much  o' 
me  back  there,  but  listen,  I  ain't  forgot  that  my  father 
«was  an  honest  man,  and  truthful.  And  in  them  re- 
specks,  I  live  up  to  the  old  man — that  much  I  saved  out 
o'  myself." 

I  nodded  my  head  and  turned  to  go. 

"All  right,  Loomis,"  I  said,  "the  place  is  yours." 

And  then  I  went  out.  For  I  had  seen  something  in 
his  eyes  that  looked  so  much  like  Shadow  Loomis,  that 
I  knew  he  was  not  lying  to  me  then. 

And  he  slept  there  that  night. 

The  next  day  when  I  came  down  to  the  clubhouse,  I 
could  see  that  our  visitor  had  gone  out.  His  footprints 
were  the  only  ones  in  the  new-fallen  snow,  and  they  led 
away  from  the  porch  steps. 

"Fine,"  I  said  to  myself,  "I  hope  he's  gone." 

But  no  such  good  luck.  Before  we  had  our  meeting 
over,  he  came  in,  with  a  bag  of  buns  in  his  arm.  He 
saw  that  we  were  holding  a  meeting.  I  don't  know 
whether  he  knew  it  was  a  meeting,  but  he  saw  that  we 
were  talking  about  something,  so  he  just  slipped  sidewise 
over  to  the  stove,  sat  down  and  stuck  his  feet  upon  the 
fender,  and  with  his  back  toward  us,  began  to  eat  his 
sugar  rolls. 

The  river  bad  frozen  over  and  our  boys  had  brought 

286 


A    ROLLING    STONE 

down  their  skates.  So  it  was  that  after  the  meeting  was 
over,  I  was  left  alone  with  the  ragged  brother  of  Shadow 
Loomis. 

"Well,  Loomis,"  I  said,  "seems  like  you  might  have 
a  long  wait.  Shadow  hasn't  shown  up  yet." 

"You  think  he  will  come  some  time?" 

"Oh,  sure,"  I  said,  "but  this  ice  hi  the  river  might 
keep  him  away.  He  ain't  strong  on  footwork,  and  it 
is  a  pretty  walk  from  Watertown  down  here.  If  the 
river  was  running,  he'd  most  likely  come  down  in  Robby 
Hood's  launch — " 

"Robby — has  he  got  a  launch?" 

"You  know  Robby,  too,  then?" 

"Best  fella  I  ever  met.  But  where  did  he  git  enough 
money  to  buy  a  launch?" 

I  explained  that  Robby's  launch  was  a  homemade 
one;  a  skiff  with  a  motor  attached.  My  raggedy  com- 
panion chuckled  to  himself. 

"That's  Robby,  the  little  smart  ellick,"  he  said, 
"always  fixin'  up  things  outa  nothing." 

Then  he  turned  to  me  suddenly  and  said: 

"Say,  are  you  the  guy  they  calls  Seckatary  Hawkins?" 

"That's  me,"  I  answered.    "Who  told  you?" 

"I  met  a  guy,"  he  said,  "a  guy  what  didn't  have  any 
money — he  was  going  home,  and  he  wanted  to  see  his 
mother  before  Christmas.  He  asked  me  for  a  loan.  I 
only  had  two  bits,  and  I  give  it  to  him.  He  says  to  me, 
'Listen,  bo,  if  you  ever  need  a  friend,  go  into  a  house 
that  looks  like  a  Httle  dump  on  a  river  bank  not  far 
up  the  creek,  and  ask  for  a  guy  they  calls  Seckatary 
Hawkins.  He'll  help  you  out,'  says  he,  'and  he'll  give 
you  some — ' ' 

"Wait  a  minute,"  I  interrupted,  "who  was  this 
guy  you  met?" 

287 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"He  did  tell  me  his  name,  but  I  done  forgot  it. 
Maybe  if  you  could — " 

"Was  it  Lasky?" 

His  face  lit  up  with  a  smile. 

"That's  him,"  he  said,  "Lasky,  and  he  told  me—" 

"Oh,  never  mind,"  I  said,  "never  mind  what  he 
told  you.  I  know.  Seems  like  a  fella  can't  do  any- 
thing without  somebody  else  getting  on  to  it — " 

"Listen  here,  Seckatary  Hawkins,"  spoke  up  my 
raggedy  boarder,  "I  ain't  askin — " 

"I  know,"  I  said,  "I  know." 

The  door  opened.  Shadow  Loomis  stood  there.  He 
did  not  see  my  raggedy  friend,  because  I  sat  in  front  of 
him,  and  from  the  door  he  could  not  be  seen. 

"Seek,"  he  says  (Shadow  had  got  a  habit  of  calling  me 
"Seek"  lately.)  "Seek,  if  you'll  step  outside,  please, 
you'll  see  the  latest  invention  of  your  honorable  friend 
Robby  Hood  and  yours  truly,  a  regular  twin-six  ice 
skooter  that'll  take  the  wind  at  forty-five  miles  an  hour, 
providin'  the  ice  holds — " 

Suddenly  he  stopped.  Just  that  quick  he  stopped, 
for  I  had  stood  up  and  stepped  aside  and  his  eyes  fell 
on  the  raggedy  visitor  stretched  out  on  the  chair  with 
his  feet  on  top  of  the  stove. 

"Hi,  Shadow?" 

"Hello,  you  big  bum,"  said  Shadow,  and  there 
was  a  scowl  on  his  face.  "Where  on  earth  did  you  come 
from?" 

He  walked  over  quickly  to  where  my  visitor  boarder 
sat.  The  latter  took  his  feet  down  hurriedly,  and  stood 
up  to  meet  Shadow. 

"Hello,  brother,"  he  said;  his  voice  was  much  lower. 

"Fine  brother  you  are,  ain't  you?"  remarked  Shadow. 
"What  you  doing  here?  Why  do  you  always  try  to  follow 

288 


289 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

me  up  and  make  me  ashamed  that  I  got  a  brother  like 
you?  Ain't  I  got  a  right  to  be  let  alone,  John?" 

"Shadow,"  said  the  other  in  a  low  tone,  "I  ain't  come 
to  shame  you,  kid.  Listen,  I  ain't  had  a  thought — never 
in  my  life — of  doing  that.  I  ain't  caring  about  the  folks 
back  home — I  won't  go  there,  Shadow,  'cause  I  know  they 
don't  want  to  see  me.  I  knew  they  wouldn't  want 
to  see  me,  but  I  thought  sure  you  would  be  glad  to  see 
me,  kid." 

Shadow  straightened  up,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  fire. 

"Well,  I  ain't,"  he  said;  "you  ain't  got  no  right  to 
come  here,  John.  I'm  thought  well  of  by  this  bunch 
of  boys,  and  I  like  'em.  I  don't  want  you  to  queer  me, 
see?" 

Shadow  came  over  to  where  I  stood,  and  looked  out 
of  the  window.  His  dirty  brother  stood  with  his 
arms  hanging  in  a  helpless  attitude  by  the  stove,  as  if 
he  wanted  to  say  something — 

"Oh,  all  right,  Shadow,"  he  said:  "I  didn't  think. 
I  guess  I  can  skip  out  without  doing  you  much  trouble — " 

"The  trouble's  done,"  spoke  Shadow  sharply,  turn- 
ing suddenly  upon  his  older  brother,  "you've  probably 
told  all  the  other  boys  that  you  were  my  brother.  What'll 
they  think  of  me  now,  huh?  Fine  brother  you  make  for 
a  fella." 

I  wish  I  could  have  said  something,  but  at  the  time, 
nothing  came  to  my  mind  that  would  have  done  any 
good.  I  watched  Shadow  as  he  turned  his  vexed  face 
again  to  the  window,  and  I  also  saw  the  pain  in  the  face 
of  his  raggedy,  no-account  brother. 

"You  can  tell  'em,"  said  the  ragged  brother,  "you 
can  tell  'em,  Shadow,  that  I  was  a  liar  if  you  want  to — 
tell  'em  it  ain't  so,  tell  'em  I  ain't  your  brother,  and  never 
was.  I  don't  want  to  spoil  anything  for  you,  kid.  Gee 

290 


A    ROLLING    STONE 

wiz,  you  always  been  the  happiest  thing  I  had  to  think 
about,  out  there  on  them  cold  nights  alone,  when  I 
didn't  have  anything  to  eat  for  five  or  six  days,  and  when 
the  snow  was  coming  down.  I  always  thought  about 
you,  kid;  yeah,  'member  how  I  used  to  call  you 
'the  kid'?  Them  was  the  happy  days,  wasn't  they, 
Shadow?  Gosh,  if  you  wasn't  the  finest  little  kid  brother 
I  ever  knew.  And  then  we  had  to  go  and  grow  up;  and 
me,  I  come  to  be  a  bum,  but  you — you  stayed  right.  I 
always  knew  you  would  make  a  fine  boy,  Shadow.  That's 
why  I  had  to  come  back — dern  if  I  didn't — you  know 
those  Christmas  days  we  just  had? — they  made  me  think 
about  it  so  much — they  felt  like  they  was  squeezin' 
my  throat,  and  tellin'  me  to  go  back  and  take  another 
look  at  you,  kid." 

He  stopped  his  long  speech,  but  neither  Shadow 
nor  I  moved.  As  for  me,  I  could  not.  Something  in 
that  raggedy  boy's  talk  had  "squeezed  my  throat," 
as  he  put  it.  I  could  not  believe  that  Shadow  Loomis 
could  be  so  hard-hearted  to  this  poor  brother  of  his. 
For  I  was  certain  it  was  his  brother — as  certain  as  I 
was  that  my  name  was  Hawkins. 

The  slam  of  the  door  brought  us  both  around  at 
once.  We  were  alone,  Shadow  and  I. 

"Hawkins,"  he  said,  "I  hope  you  will  forget  this." 

"I  hope  I  won't,"  I  said;  "I  don't  want  to  forget 
it,  Shadow.  That  boy  is  your  brother.  I  wish  I  had  one, 
Shadow.  I  ain't  got  a  brother,  but  if  I  had,  kid,  I 
wouldn't  care  if  he  was  just  like  your  John.  Gosh, 
Shadow,  you  don't  know  how  lucky  you  are  to  have  a 
brother.  I  think  he's  the  finest  fella — " 

"Shut  up,"  said  Shadow  shortly,  "you  and  him  make 
me  sick." 

"All  right,"  I  said,  "but  he's  your  brother,  Shadow. 
291 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

He's  not  so  smart  as  you;  any  blind  man  could  see  that. 
But  he  means  well.  Any  kind  of  a  brother  is  worth 
having,  and  I  wish — " 

"I  wish  he  were  your  brother,"  broke  in  Shadow. 

"So  do  I,"  I  said,  "I'd  give  him  a  glad  smile,  any- 
way, and  tell  him  there's  happier  days  ahead  for  him. 
I  wish  I  could  trade  you  something  for  him,  Shadow, 
but  everything  I  own  wouldn't  be  worth — 

"Aw,  dry  up!"  shouted  Shadow,  and  out  into  the 
snow  he  went,  leaving  me  there  alone. 

That  night  the  Red  Runners  came.  Angered  by 
our  success  in  capturing  their  numbers  6,  8,  14,  and  18, 
they  had  been  watching  our  clubhouse  every  night 
for  a  chance  to  tackle  us.  And  this  night  it  so  happened 
that  only  Bill  Darby,  Shadow  Loomis,  Robby  Hood, 
Dick  Ferris,  Lew  Hunter,  and  myself  were  there.  It 
was  their  chance.  They  made  the  attack  while  we  were 
sitting  quietly  around,  talking  about  the  snow  fort  we 
would  build  on  the  morrow.  The  door  burst  open  as  if 
a  whirlwind  had  struck  it,  and  we  found  ourselves  held 
by  Red  Runners. 

Now,  how  do  you  think  we  were  saved?  Sure, 
Loomis's  raggedy,  no-account  brother  John.  Yeah,  he 
saved  us  that  night.  He  stood  in  the  doorway  a  minute 
after  we  were  captured.  He  carried  a  good  stick,  nothing 
else. 

"Do  these  red  birds  belong  to  your  crowd,  Seckatary 
Hawkins?"  he  called,  looking  over  the  heads  of  all  those 
present. 

"No!"  I  yelled,  "not  one  of  'em.  They  don't  belong 
here,  John." 

"All  right,  then,"  he  sang  out,  and,  swinging  his 
stick  over  his  head,  he  made  for  the  first  one,  which 

292 


A    ROLLING   STONE 

happened  'to  be  Long  Tom  himself.  With  a  yell  Long 
Tom  sprang  for  the  door.  Shadow's  raggedy  brother 
let  him  pass,  and  as  he  did  so  the  second  one,  whom  I 
knew  to  be  Harkinson,  in  spite  of  the  wide-brim  hat 
that  hid  half  of  his  face,  shot  past  him,  and  the  next  sec- 
ond there  came  the  sound  of  the  horn — the  call  of  the 
leader  to  his  Red  Runners,  and  they  all  obeyed  that  call 
and  followed  out  the  door.  We  were  alone,  safe. 

"He's  just  a  rolling  stone,"  said  Shadow  to  me,  "and 
he'll  never  amount  to  anything.  That's  why  I  won't 
have  anything  to  do  with  him." 

"Yeah,  bul  Shadow,  he's  a  rollin'  stone,  just  a-rollin' 
home,  and  you  better  help  him  roll  along  to  where  he  be- 
longs. I  bet  you  there  were  days  when  he  did  you  many  a 
good  turn,  Shadow." 

Shadow's  eyes  were  turned  to  the  floor. 

"Well,  yes,"  he  said,  "he  did  do  me  some  good  turns 
— by  Jove,  Hawkins,  there  was  a  time  when — " 

"Never  mind  telling  me,"  I  said.  "Tell  your  brother 
John  about  it." 

He  did.  Yeah.  Him  and  John  had  a  long  talk  be- 
fore Robby  and  Shadow  left. 

"If  you're  going  to  sleep  here  all  night,  John," 
I  said  to  the  raggedy  one,  "we  might  as  well  leave  the 
key  with  you." 

Which  we  did. 


293 


XXIX 

The  Trap  that  Didn't  Work 

THE  Rolling  Stone  slept  in  our  clubhouse  again  that 
night.  He  pulled  all  the  small  rugs  from  the  meet- 
ing room  into  my  little  writing  office  and  made  him- 
self a  bed  on  the  floor  beside  my  little  desk.  When 
we  came  down  to  hold  our  meeting,  after  school,  he  was 
out,  but  he  came  in  before  the  meeting  was  over.  He 
didn't  pay  any  attention  to  us;  just  mosied  over  to  a  chair 
by  the  stove,  put  a  few  more  sticks  in  the  fire  and  then 
sat  there  with  his  feet  propped  up  on  the  fender.  Nobody 
said  a  word  to  him;  nor  did  he  offer  any  word  to  us. 
Shadow  Loomis  and  Robby  Hood  had  not  come  down; 
so  there  was  no  meeting  that  day  between  the  Rolling 
Stone  and  his  more-refined  brother. 

The  reason  I  had  not  turned  over  the  list  of  Red 
Runners'  names  to  Judge  Granbery  was  that  Shadow 
had  begged  me  to  hold  it  until  he  had  just  one  more  try 
at  it  himself.  He  was  very  keen  on  capturing  the  Run- 
ners without  the  help  of  the  Sheriff  and  his  men.  So  I  had 
shoved  that  roll  call  of  names  into  my  desk  the  night 
Shadow  brought  it  to  me,  and  there  it  stayed.  A  few 
days  after  our  last  fight  with  the  Runners  I  got  a  note 
from  Shadow. 

"To-night  we  will  make  the  try,"  he  wrote,  "and  then 
if  we  don't  make  good,  you  can  turn  the  list  over  to 
old  Judge  Granbery.  Robby  will  be  waiting  for  you 
at  the  steamboat  landing.  He  will  show  you  the  place. 
I  will  be  inside  the  Red  Runners'  headquarters.  I  will 
open  the  front  door  when  I  hear  your  knock.  They 

294 


THE   TRAP  THAT   DIDN'T  WORK 

never  use  that  door,  but  I'll  be  on  the  inside.  Bring  all 
the  boys." 

So  that  night  we  all  met  on  the  main  road  and 
started  walking  for  Watertown.  When  a  machine  came 
along,  going  the  way  we  were  headed,  I  called.  It  was 
a  small  machine,  closed  in  with  curtains.  It  stopped, 
and  a  face  looked  out  at  us — by  jingo,  it  was  good  old 
Doc  Waters. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Doc,"  I  said,  "you  got  to  take  us 
boys  along." 

"Where  you  boys  going?"  he  asked. 

"Watertown,  to  see  a  picture  show,"  I  said;  "you 
got  plenty  room  for  us." 

"All  right,  jump  in,"  he  said.  We  all  piled  in — good 
night!  what  a  tight  fit  it  was  for  me  to  squeeze  in  after 
all  those  other  boys  were  in.  But  I  got  in  all  right.  An- 
other man  sat  in  the  front  seat  with  Doc.  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  it  was  the  Sheriff. 

"Say,"  I  began,  "did  Shadow  Loomis  tell  you — " 

"Tell  me  what?"  asked  Doc. 

"Oh,  never  mind,"  I  said,  "only  it  seems  funny 
that  you  and  the  Sheriff  happen  to  be  going  to  Water- 
town  just  when  we  boys  are  bound  for  there." 

"I  don't  see  anything  funny  about  it,"  said  Doc,  and 
he  stepped  on  the  gas  and  away  we  went. 

Lew  Hunter  started  up  a  song,  and  while  we  sang  I 
noticed  that  the  Sheriff  and  Doc  were  talking  very  ear- 
nestly together,  but  I  could  not  overhear  what  they  said. 
We  arrived  at  Watertown  in  less  than  half  an  hour, 
and  Doc  stopped  right  in  front  of  the  steamboat  landing. 

"How'd  you  know  we  wanted  to  get  out  here,  Doc?" 
I  asked. 

"Wherever  you  say,  Hawkins,  old  boy,"  said  Doc 
with  a  laugh,  "and  if  you  want  to  ride  back  with  me, 

295 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

I'll  be  waiting  here  for  you  when  you're  ready  to  go 
home." 

"All  right,  come  on,  fellas,"  I  said.  We  piled  out. 
Doc  waved  at  us  and  then  we  waited  till  the  car  dis- 
appeared up  the  little  street  that  led  away  from  the 
landing.  As  we  turned  a  dark  figure  came  from  behind 
the  shadows  of  the  steamboats  at  the  wharf.  It  was 
Robby  Hood. 

"This  way,  fellas,"  he  whispered;  "Come  on,  follow 
me,  and  be  careful.  Get  in  line  everybody  and  don't 
make  a  sound." 

When  I  come  to  think  of  it,  that  was  a  very  foolish 
thing  for  us  boys  to  be  doing — going  straight  into  the 
nest  of  the  Red  Runners,  thinking  we  were  going  to  cap- 
ture them  that  easy.  But  it  was  Shadow  Loomis  who 
had  given  us  the  nerve  to  do  it.  Shadow  made  me  be- 
lieve he  had  it  all  fixed;  that  he  would  do  everything  to 
trap  the  Runners,  and  all  we  would  have  to  do  would  be 
to  come  and  take  them  to  the  Sheriff.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  the  lucky  way — but  wait,  I'll  tell  you  just  how 
it  happened. 

It's  a  gloomy,  mean-looking  place — that  Red  Run- 
ners' headquarters.  That  dingy  little  street — more  like 
an  alley,  I  think — dark,  except  for  two  street  lamps 
that  threw  very  little  light,  and  rows  of  ramshackle 
buildings,  pasted  over  with  steamboat  notices  and  cir- 
cus bills  and  theater  advertisements;  it  made  me  wish 
we  had  not  come.  But  Robby  had  led  us  past  the  two 
lamp-posts,  and  we  stood  before  a  door — a  wooden 
door  of  a  warehouse,  on  which  a  "For  Rent"  sign  had  been 
pasted  a  long  time  ago,  and  was  half  peeled  off  now. 

"Now,"  whispered  Robby,  as  we  all  gathered  around 
him.  "When  I  give  the  signal  the  door  will  open, 
and  Shadow  will  be  there.  He  will  lead  the  way  and  tell 

296 


THE  TRAP  THAT  DIDN'T  WORK 

us  what  to  do.  Nobody  must  speak,  and,  above  all, 
watch  your  step  so  you  don't  stumble  against  something 
hi  the  dark.  All  ready?  Here  goes,  then." 

Robby  turned  to  the  door  and  gently  tapped  it  with 
his  knuckles. 

"Tap— Tap— Tap-tap-tap— " 

And  then  we  waited  for  the  door  to  open.  But  it 
did  not  open.  For  a  few  minutes  we  waited.  Robby 
tapped  again.  Still  no  answer.  No  sound  came  from 
behind  the  door. 

V'  "  'S  funny,"  muttered  Robby;  "it's  Ihe  time  he 
told  me  to  be  here.  I'll  try  again." 

He  tapped  once  more.  We  waited  again  a  few  min- 
utes. Still  nothing  happened.  I  know  some  of  the  boys 
thought  Robby  was  trying  to  kid  us. 

"By  Jove,  Hawkins,  they've  got  him — I  bet  you  a 
dollar  he  was  caught — else  he'd  be  here  to  open  this 
door  as  he  promised." 

I  had  thought  of  that,  too.  I  turned  to  our  Cap- 
tain, Dick  Ferris. 

"Take  the  boys  back,  Dick,  to  the  place  where  Doc 
Waters  said  he  would  meet  us  and  wait  till  Doc  comes.  If 
we  don't  join  you  in  a  short  time  tell  Doc  we  went  in 
this  place." 

We  watched  them  trot  away,  pass  the  two  lamp- 
posts, and  turn  the  corner.  Then  Robby  said  to  me: 

**There's  only  one  way — Shadow  showed  it  to  me 
himself.  Will  you  take  a  chance?" 

"For  Shadow,  sure.  I  want  to  find  him,  Robby,  to 
know  he  is  safe,  before  I  go  home." 

"Come  on,  then;  it's  over  the  housetops.  You  don't 
mind  that,  do  you?" 

"I  don't  mind  anything  now.  Lead  the  way,  Robby, 
old  boy." 

297 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

He  dodged  around  and  got  ahead  of  me.  I  followed 
like  a  cat.  Two  doors  down  there  opened  up  a  small 
passageway  between  two  houses.  Into  this  he  ducked. 
I  at  his  heels.  The  old  building  was  empty  and  dark. 
He  leaped  into  a  doorway  which  no  longer  had  a  door; 
up  a  flight  of  steps;  and  started  up  another  flight. 
I  stood  with  him  at  last  on  the  third  floor.  He  waited 
only  till  I  arrived,  then  stepped  out  of  an  open  window. 
When  I  followed  I  found  we  were  on  the  roof  of  a  build- 
ing. From  the  river  a  glow  from  the  wharf  lamps 
threw  a  screen  of  light  on  the  river  mist;  outlined 
against  this  I  could  see  the  ragged  line  of  roofs  and 
chimney  pots — 

"Come  on,  Hawkins,"  Robby's  voice  came  from  ahead 
in  the  dark;  "watch  your  step." 

I  lighted  my  way  with  my  electric  flash.  Once  we 
had  to  make  a  pretty  big  jump  from  one  roof  to  another. 
I  didn't  dare  to  think  how  far  down  the  street  lay. 
We  got  across  it  safe.  Then  into  another  window,  down 
one  flight  of  steps  and  out  onto  another  housetop. 

"See,"  said  Robby,  pointing,  "that's  where  we  get 
in." 

A  dim  light  came  from  a  grimy  window  that  faced 
us  across  the  housetop.  The  building  next  to  us  was 
one  floor  higher,  and  it's  only  window  opened  onto  the 
roof  we  stood  on.  We  could  not  see  through  the  window 
panes,  so  thick  were  they  with  dust  and  grime.  I  doubt 
if  the  light  could  have  been  seen  from  the  street  below. 
Robby  lifted  the  window;  it  made  an  awful  scraping, 
squeaking  sound.  He  stepped  over  the  window  sill  and 
motioned  me  to  follow  him. 

We  stood  in  a  bare  little  hallway.  A  narrow  stairway 
led  down.  At  the  head  of  the  stairs  was  an  empty  box, 
on  which  stood  a  lantern.  We  started  to  go  down  the 

298 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

steps.  As  we  did  so  we  heard  a  muffled  sound.  I 
turned,  and  over  against  the  wall,  tied  to  a  plain  back 
chair,  a  rag  tied  across  his  mouth,  was  Shadow  Loomis. 

I  smothered  the  cry  of  surprise  that  came  to  my  lips 
when  I  saw  him.  Robby  had  seen  him  as  quickly,  and 
together  we  rushed  to  him  and  in  a  little  while  had  him 
free. 

"Thanks,  fellas,"  he  whispered,  "don't  talk.  Long 
Tom  and  Number  Thirteen  tied  me  up — caught  me  just 
as  I  was  coming.  They're  suspicious  of  this  window. 
Good  you  didn't  come  sooner.  They  were  watching  it 
all  evening,  Long  Tom  and  Thirteen.  But  the  rest  of 
the  gang  came  back  a  while  ago.  They're  holding  a 
meeting  downstairs  now.  Harkinson's  hi  bad  with  Long 
Tom,  or  something  like  that.  Be  awfully  careful  and 
tiptoe  after  me." 

You  can't  imagine  how  excited  I  was  as  we  followed 
Shadow  down  those  narrow  stairs.  A  door  stood  open 
about  an  inch  or  two,  and  we  tiptoed  over  and  peeped 
in.  I  never  will  forget  how  my  heart  thumped  against 
my  chest  when  I  looked  for  the  first  time  into  the  meet- 
ing place  of  the  Red  Runners.  It  used  to  be  an  old  to- 
bacco warehouse,  but  on  account  of  the  high  water  com- 
ing into  it  at  times  it  was  no  longer  used.  Two  or  three 
old  tobacco  hogsheads  still  stood  in  corners,  and  here 
and  there  lay  small  piles  of  tobacco  leaf.  The  Red  Run- 
ners were  sitting  around  a  long  table  made  of  long  boards 
on  top  of  empty  packing  cases.  A  fancy  oil  lamp  stood 
on  it  at  each  end.  At  one  end  sat  Long  Tom,  and  at  the 
other,  facing  him,  sat  Harkinson,  while  the  other  Red 
Runners  sat  on  the  sides.  The  one  thing  that  struck 
me  most  was  that  Harkinson  wore  a  pair  of  dark  spec- 
tacles, with  turtle-shell  rims.  "Ah,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"his  pals  can't  stand  those  hypnotizing  eyes  of  his  any 

300 


THE   TRAP   THAT   DIDN'T   WORK 

longer.  They  are  making  him  wear  glasses  now  to  hide 
his  eyes  while  he  is  with  them."  I  could  not  hear  what 
was  being  said  at  the  table,  the  room  was  so  big,  and 
the  table  stood  at  the  other  end.  But  I  knew  at  once 
there  was  a  quarrel  going  on.  Long  Tom  stood  up  and 
shook  his  fist  at  Harkinson.  I  saw  a  Red  Runner  at 
Harkinson's  right  stand  up.  By  his  beak-shaped  nose 
I  knew  him  to  be  Androfski  the  Silent.  His  lips  moved. 
They  were  all  watching  him.  Then  the  Red  Runner  on 
Harkinson's  left — he  was  Number  Five — stood  up,  and, 
in  a  voice  that  rang  clear  to  us  shouted :  "We  will  stick 
to  Harkinson — Androfski  and  me." 

Three  other  redcoats  from  different  parts  of  the  crowd 
jumped  up  and  ran  over  to  Harkinson's  place. 

"We  stand  by  Harkinson,"  they  shouted. 

Long  Tom  jumped  up  again.  He  spoke,  and  his  voice 
was  sharp,  but  I  could  not  make  out  the  words.  Harkin- 
son listened  until  he  had  finished;  then,  without  making 
a  reply,  he  got  up  and,  walking  between  Androfski  and 
Number  Five,  left  the  table,  followed  by  the  other 
three  who  said  they  would  stand  by  him.  Harkinson 
seemed  to  lean  on  Androf ski's  arm.  They  came  straight 
toward  the  door  where  we  stood.  Shadow  pushed  us 
back  into  the  dark  behind  the  door.  It  was  good  he 
did,  for  when  the  six  Red  Runners  came  out  they  pushed 
it  wide,  and  we  were  completely  hidden  behind  it.  The 
six  redcoats  went  down  the  narrow  stairs.  I  knew  it  led 
to  the  front  door — the  door  by  which  Shadow  had  in- 
tended to  let  us  in. 

When  their  footsteps  could  no  longer  be  heard  on  the 
stairs,  we  moved  back  to  the  crack  of  the  door.  As  we 
did  so  there  came  the  muffled  sound  of  Harkinson's  horn 
— three  blasts,  short  and  snappy — it  was  the  signal 
that  meant  to  the  Red  Runner's  "Danger  is  near." 

301 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

We  saw  the  Red  Runners  leap  up  from  their  seats  at 
the  table.  "Sit  tight,"  yelled  Long  Tom,  "it's  only 
Harkinson  trying  to  frighten  us — we  should  have  taken 
that  horn  away  from  him  before  he  got — " 

But  none  of  those  Red  Runners  listened  to  Long 
Tom.  For  the  sound  of  the  horn  had  hardly  died  away 
when  there  came  other  sounds,  the  sounds  of  many  feet 
stamping  hurriedly  up  the  narrow  stair.  I  heard  Jerry 
Moore's  voice  and  ran  to  the  rail  and  looked  over.  All 
of  our  fellows  were  coming.  Doc  Waters  and  the  Sheriff 
were  coming  with  them.  I  turned  to  look  again  into  the 
meeting  room.  The  Red  Runners  were  all  running  out  of 
a  little  door  in  the  corner  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
building — only  Long  Tom  stood  by  his  place,  waiting 
to  see  whether  or  not  it  was  a  trick  that  Harkinson 
was  playing. 

"Get  Long  Tom,  Robby,"  cried  Shadow.  "Hawkins, 
don't  let  him  go — the  others  have  got  away." 

We  three  rushed  into  that  meeting  room  as  our  boys 
reached  the  top  step.  But  Long  Tom  was  now  satis- 
fied that  it  was  not  a  trick.  He  turned  and  ran  out  of 
the  door  in  the  corner.  We  rushed  after  him,  but  as  we 
pulled  the  door  wide  we  knew  that  he  had  escaped  us. 
There  was  another  stairway.  Down  we  flew,  all  of  the 
boys  and  Doc  and  the  Sheriff  behind  us. 

We  stood  in  a  little  place  that  was  once  used  for  a 
scales  room.  Some  boards  had  been  pulled  up  from  the 
floor.  I  could  hear  the  wash  of  water,  and  as  I  turned  my 
flashlight  into  the  hole  I  saw  a  few  skiffs  floating  on  the 
water  under  the  floor. 

"That's  how  they  entered  this  place  from  the  river," 
said  Shadow.  "This  is  high-water  time  and  they  can 
bring  their  boats  right  under  the  floor." 

302 


THE  TRAP  THAT  DIDN'T  WORK 

But  Long  Tom  was  gone.  All  the  Red  Runners  were 
gone.  We  had  not  caught  a  single  one. 

We  sat  there  at  the  table  of  the  Red  Runners  and 
Doc  Waters  and  the  Sheriff  laughed  at  us.  "If  you  fellas 
are  ready  to  go  back  home,"  said  Doc,  "come  on  be- 
fore my  machine  is  froze  up."  The  other  boys  were 
not  ready  yet,  however.  They  had  to  take  a  look  at  the 
place,  and  at  the  rugs  and  lamps  and  things  the  Red 
Runners  had  in  their  headquarters. 

"Say,  Doc,"  I  said  as  we  sat  alone  at  one  end  of  the 
table,  "how  did  you  find  out?" 

"How  do  you  know  I  found  out?"  asked  Doc,  with  a 
serious  face. 

"Oh,  you  knew  we  were  coming  here  to-night — you 
didn't  meet  us  just  by  accident — you  brought  the 
Sheriff  along  to  see  that  we  wouldn't  get  hurt.  I  fig- 
ured that  out  right  away." 

Doc  grinned  at  me.  "Same  old  Hawkins,"  he  said. 
"No  matter  where  you  are,  in  Cuba,  or  on  a  plain  river 
bank,  or  in  Watertown,  you  never  change  much.  You 
always  figure  things  out." 

"Yeah,"  I  said,  "but  I  can't  figure  out  how  you  got 
word  that  we  were  coming  here  to-night — " 

"Well,  Seckatary,"  he  said,  "I  happened  to  drop  in 
the  clubhouse  to  see  you  this  afternoon,  but  you  had  al- 
ready gone,  and  I  found  this  on  the  table.  You  forgot 
it;  you  must  not  be  so  careless  about  such  things,  Haw- 
kins." 

He  reached  in  his  pocket  and  handed  me  a  slip  of 
paper.  I  knew  it  at  once;  it  was  the  note  Shadow  had 
sent  me. 

"I  hope  you  won't  blame  me  for  reading  it,  Hawkins," 
303 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

said  Doc.  "I  always  aim  to  take  care  of  you  boys,  you 
know." 

I  gripped  his  hand.  "You're  a  prince,  Doc,"  I 
said. 

Shadow  Loomis  came  up  to  me  to  say  good-night  just 
before  we  started  to  get  in  Doc's  automobile.  "Haw- 
kins," he  said,  "I  guess  we  might  as  well  turn  over  the 
Red  Runners'  list  to  the  Judge  to-morrow." 

Which  we  did. 


304 


XXX 

Harkinson's  Last  Visit 

A  FEW  days  passed  in  peace.  Our  meetings  were 
held  every  day  after  school  without  anything  un- 
usual about  them;  it  was  freezing  weather,  and 
the  snow  lay  white  and  cold  with  an  icy  crust  upon  it; 
the  river  was  frozen  over  from  bank  to  bank.  Shadow 
Loomis  and  Robby  Hood  had  not  shown  up  for  many 
days,  and  still  Rolling  Stone  John  used  our  clubhouse 
for  a  hotel.  None  of  the  boys  kicked  about  that.  I 
don't  know  whether  it  was  because  he  was  Shadow's 
brother  or  whether  it  was  because  they  like  John  Loomis 
himself;  but  anyway  they  let  him  alone.  The  boys 
would  all  speak  to  him  as  they  came  in,  and  he  would 
answer  them  usually  with  just  one  word,  "Howdy." 
Then  he  would  mind  his  own  business  and  our  boys  would 
go  about  theirs. 

Now,  on  Thursday  afternoon,  just  after  our  meeting, 
I  stayed  inside,  while  the  other  boys  went  out  to  skate. 
While  I  stood  by  the  front  window  watching  the  fel- 
lows cutting  fancy  figures  on  the  frozen  river  my  gaze 
happened  to  wander  over  toward  Pelham,  and  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  group  of  Pelham  fellows  coming  across 
the  ice.  "Fine,"  I  said  to  myself,  "Pelham  is  going  to 
pay  us  a  visit."  I  had  not  seen  or  heard  from  Briggen 
and  his  gang  for  so  long  that  I  was  almost  about  to  for- 
get them. 

I  settled  myself  in  my  chair  at  my  desk  and 
waited  for  the  knock  on  the  door.  It  came.  And  when 
I  called  "Come  in,"  the  door  opened  quickly,  and  Brig- 
gen  entered,  followed  by  Dave  Burns  and  Ham  Gardner. 

20  305 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Hawkins,"  began  Briggen,  "it's  up  to  us  boys  to 
'tend  to  those  Red  Runners.  It's  about  time  we  stopped 
their  foolishness." 

"You've  got  my  permission  to  go  ahead,  Briggen," 
I  answered;  "what's  going  to  stop  you?" 

"Come  on,"  said  Briggen  peevishly,  "you  know 
what  I  mean.  You  fellas  and  us  fellas  together  must 
stop  'em.  Separate,  we  can't  do  nothin'.  We  all  got 
to  work  together." 

"We  have  been  working  for  a  long  time,"  I  said;  "we 
are  not  worried,  Briggen." 

"Yeah,  but  now  it's  different.  Used  to  be  when  they 
only  came  down  here  once  in  a  while,  and  most  times 
they  was  after  you  guys,  not  us.  But  now  its  different, 
Hawkins.  They're  too  near  us  Pelham  folks  to  be  pleas- 
ing." 

"You   mean—" 

"I  mean,"  said  Briggen,  "that  Harkinson  has  split 
with  Long  Tom.  I  knew  it  all  along,  Hawkins.  They 
can't  be  two  leaders  to  any  gang  like  that,  and  you  know 
it.  You  know  Long  Tom  was  boss  after  Stoner,  and  you 
know  Harkinson  has  a  way  of  bein'  boss  hisself." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "Harkinson  has  broken  away  from  Long 
Tom,  eh,  Briggen?  Is  that  what  you  mean,  Briggen? 
Harkinson  has  set  up  a  gang  of  his  own?" 

"You  got  it,"  said  Briggen;  "and  the  worst  of  it  is 
that  Harkinson  has  set  up  his  headquarters  in  this 
neighborhood — too  close  to  us  Pelhams,  I  tell  ya, 
Hawkins.  It  can't  be  allowed.  He's  set  hisself  a  head- 
quarters over  in  Burney's  Field.  He's  got  a  good  lot 
of  redcoats  with  him;  they's  a  lot  that  didn't  care  for 
Long  Tom.  And  they  dug  'emselves  out  a  neat  cave 
in  the  ground,  you'd  never  find  it,  but  ask  Ham  here — " 

"Cross  my  heart,  and  double  cross  it,"  broke  in 
306 


HARKINSON'S   LAST   VISIT 

Ham  Gardner  in  a  low  voice;  "they've  done  all  that. 
Briggen  is  right.  It  was  me  as  found  it,  Hawkins.  I 
seen  Harkinson's  spooky  eyes — they  got  me  buffaloed; 
every  time  I  see  'em  I  feel  like — " 

"I  know,  Ham,"  I  said;  "I've  met  Harkinson,  and 
looked  into  those  hypnotizing  peepers  of  his.  You 
shouldn't  let  this  thing  frighten  you  as  it  does.  Boys, 
I  thank  you  for  bringing  me  the  news.  If  we  can  help 
you  out  at  any  time  call  on  us.  We  are  with  you  for 
putting  an  end  to  the  Red  Runners." 

"I  say,  Hawkins,"  broke  in  Dave  Burns,  "aren't  they 
the  slickest  bunch  you  ever  saw,  though?  I'll  be  jugged 
if  I  ever  saw — " 

"Remember  Stoner's  boy,  Dave,"  I  said;  "the  Red 
Runners  have  nothing  on  him.  They're  not  half  as 
clever.  We  will  put  them  down  and  out  for  the  count 
before  long.  We  might  need  you  boys  to  help  us,  though. 
Go  back  and  take  my  advice,  fellas;  stay  away  from 
Burney's  Field." 

"You  don't  have  to  tell  me,"  said  Ham  Gardner. 

And  they  left  the  clubhouse  just  as  the  Rolling  Stone 
came  back  from  a  walk  through  the  woods.  He  was  eat- 
ing an  apple  and  carried  another. 

"Who's  them  birds?"  he  asked,  jerking  his  thumb 
toward  the  Pelhams. 

"Oh,  those  boys?"  I  said,  "they  are  our  neighbors 
across  the  river." 

He  grunted  something  and  went  to  his  place  beside  the 
stove.  I  went  to  work  writing  down  the  day's  doings  hi 
my  book. 

I  stayed  down  at  the  clubhouse  longer  than  ususal 
that  evening.  I  heard  all  the  other  fellows  shouting 

307 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"So  long,"  as  they  ran  up  the  river  path  with  their 
skates  rattling  on  a  strap.  I  had  got  a  late  start  writ- 
ing and  I  wanted  to  finish  up,  because  Lew  Hunter  was 
not  coming  down  to  the  clubhouse  in  the  evening,  and 
when  he  didn't  come  I  didn't  either.  I  like  Lew's  music 
and  singing  practice;  if  there  isn't  any  singing,  I'd  just 
as  soon  stay  home.  So  there  I  was  alone  in  my  office, 
with  only  Rolling  Stone  Loomis  out  in  the  front  room 
by  the  stove. 

Once  I  looked  out  of  my  window.  I  seemed  to  think 
something  had  flashed  past  the  window  pane.  But  I 
saw  nothing.  I  noticed  that  it  had  become  dark  outside, 
which  I  had  not  noticed  before  because  I  had  had  my 
lamp  lit  since  meeting  time.  I  went  again  to  my  writing; 
once  again  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  window  at  my  left. 
Surely  something  had  been  at  that  pane  of  glass.  Else 
why  had  my  attention  been  drawn  that  way — 

Ah!  There  it  was!  I  knew  the  reason  now.  Harkin- 
son's  steely  eyes — they  were  not  drawn  away  this  time; 
steadily  they  gleamed  at  me  through  the  frosted  window 
pane;  then  it  seemed  as  if  the  steely  glitter  died  out  of 
those  eyes.  Harkinson  had  lowered  a  pair  of  dark- 
colored  spectacles  that  he  had  raised  while  he  looked  at 
me.  For  a  moment  those  dark  goggles  remained  there; 
then  the  face  disappeared. 

"Good  Lord !"  I  heard.  And  I  turned  and  saw  Roll- 
ing Stone  Loomis  standing  behind  me.  "Did  you 
see  that,  Hawkins?  Did  you  see  those  eyes?  Never 
in  my  life  did  I  ever  see  such  eyes  look  into  mine — " 

"Excuse  me!" 

A  harsh,  rasping  sound  came  from  the  front  room. 
I  felt  the  draft  from  the  open  door.  There  stood  Har- 
kinson— my  old-time  enemy,  my  old  hypnotizer  himself, 
in  my  clubhouse  and  behind  him,  holding  him  by  the 

308 


THROUGH  THE 

.FRO-bTEV  WlNTTOW 

FANE." 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

arm,  was  another  Red  Runner,  who  wore  the  Number 
5  on  his  sleeve. 

"Excuse  me,"  repeated  Harkinson,  in  that  harsh, 
rasping  voice,  a  voice  I  had  never  heard  before;  either 
Harkinson  had  suffered  a  change  in  his  voice,  or  this 
was  not  Harkinson.  But  I  looked  again,  and  I  knew  it 
was  he;  it  was  Harkinson,  yeah,  with  his  new  spectacles 
that  made  him  look  like  an  owl — I  even  thought  I  could 
see  that  steely  glitter  behind  those  dark  glasses.  "I 
come  peaceful,  Seckatary  Hawkins,"  he  said;  "I  come 
to  talk  things  over  with  you  in  peace.  Under  the  white 
flag,  under  a  truce,  Hawkins — 

"Yeah,"  I  broke  in,  "say  what  you  got  to  say,  Har- 
kinson. Don't  try  any  your  tricks — 

"No  tricks,"  he  cried,  and  his  voice  was  more  rusty 
than  before;  "no  tricks,  as  I  am  a  Christian,  Hawkins, 
I  give  you  my  word.  Sit  down  and  we  will  talk." 

I  shoved  two  chairs  out  to  him  and  his  No.  5.  They 
sat  facing  me.  Rolling  Stone  Loomis  stood  behind  my 
chair. 

"I  broke  away,  Hawkins,"  said  Harkinson;  "I  broke 
away  from  the  Red  Runners — 

"How  come?"  I  interrupted;  "you  still  wear  the  red 
sweater  with  your  No.  2  on  your  sleeve;  and  your  pal 
has  No.  5—" 

"Gi'me  time,  gi'me  time,"  cried  Harkinson,  "hear 
me  out,  will  you,  Hawkins?  We  broke  away,  six  of  us. 
We  ain't  with  Long  Tom  no  more,  see?  We  cut  loose, 
like  Lasky  did,  Hawkins.  You  know  Lasky.  We  heard 
what  you  did  with  Lasky.  I  come  to  you  now  to  say 
that  we  ain't  gonna  have  no  more  to  do  with  Long  Tom 
nor  the  Red  Runners.  The  Sheriff  is  after  me,  it's  me 
he  wants,  Hawkins;  more'n  the  other  five  that's  with 
me.  We  thought  we  was  safe  when  we  dug  in  over  there 

310 


HARKINSON'S   LAST   VISIT 

on  Burney's  Field;  but  those  Pelham  boys  told — they 
came  to-day — never  mind  how  we  found  out.  But  I 
come  peaceful,  Hawkins;  I  won't  take  revenge  on  Pel- 
ham;  and  I  won't  bother  you  fellas  no  more,  you  can 
bet  on  that;  I'll  never  bother  nobody  no  more.  I  ain't 
what  I  used  to  be,  Hawkins.  I've  been  unlucky.  I 
got  to  be  let  alone  till  I  can  get  somewhere;  I  got  to  take 
a  rest.  Androfski  has  gone  to  fix  things  for  me,  and 
when  he  comes  back  to  fetch  me,  I  will  go  away  and 
never  come  back.  Everything  will  be  all  right,  if  the 
Sheriff  doesn't  know  that  I — if  you  will  tell  me  you  won't 
tip  us  off,  tell  me  you  won't  put  the  Sheriff  wise  till  I 
can  get  away.  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you,  Hawkins — " 

"I  can't  bargain  with  you,  Harkinson,"  I  said;  for 
I  could  not  understand  what  the  old  hypnotizer  was 
driving  at.  "There's  no  use  to  go  farther."  I  said.  "I'll 
tell  you  one  thing  which  is  only  fair  and  square.  I'll 
not  say  a  thing  about  you  coming  over  here  to-night. 
That's  all.  Further  than  that,  you  and  your  pals  will 
have  to  take  care  of  yourselves.  It  doesn't  matter  to 
me  whether  you've  broken  off  with  Long  Tom  or  not. 
That's  your  business.  But  none  of  us  fellas  will  forget 
the  things  you've  done  to  us.  That's  all.  Now,  git, 
while  the  gittin's  good." 

Both  Harkinson  and  his  No.  5  rose  at  once. 

"All  right,"  croaked  Harkinson's  harsh  voice;  "all 
right—" 

Oh,  boy!  How  those  steely  eyes  glared  at  me  then. 
He  had  backed  away  and  raised  his  dark  spectacles 
for  a  moment.  I  moved  back  a  step  or  two,  and  bumped 
into  the  Rolling  Stone,  who  seemed  to  have  been  pet- 
rified by  the  look  of  Harkinson's  eyes. 

"You're  gonna  be  sorry,  Hawkins,"  he  said;  "there'll 
311 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

come   a   day   when   you   will   feel   sorry — you   had   a 
chance — " 

"Git  out,"  I  said,  stepping  up  closer  to  the  bully, 
"git  out  before  I  throw  you  out." 

He  turned  on  me,  his  eyes  flashing  through  those  dark 
glasses,  and  for  a  second  I  thought  he  would  smash  me  to 
the  floor  for  saying  that.  But  suddenly  I  saw  the  light 
go  out  of  his  eyes — yeah,  I  saw  the  steely  light  go  out  of 
Harkinson's  eyes,  and  I  felt  as  though  I  would  never  be 
afraid  of  the  hypnotizer  again.  He  stared  over  my  head 
as  though  he  were  listening.  His  pal  stood  holding  the 
door  open  waiting  for  him.  "Come  on,"  he  called  im- 
patiently. And  Harkinson,  without  another  word, 
turned  to  go.  The  funny  part  of  it  was  that  while  No. 
5  waited  at  the  open  door  for  him,  Harkinson  steered 
for  the  window  on  the  left.  Number  Five  jumped  and 
grabbed  his  arm  and  pulled  him  out  the  door.  That's 
the  way  they  went  out  together,  arm  in  arm,  and  the 
door  slammed  behind  them. 

I  ran  to  the  window  on  the  left,  Rolling  Stone  Loomis 
sprang  to  the  one  at  the  right.  We  watched  the  two 
Runners  go  down  the  steps  into  the  ice-crusted  snow. 
I  saw  No.  5  slip  and  fall.  Harkinson,  by  himself,  walked 
steadily  forward,  and  I  saw  him  bump  smack  up  against 
a  tree.  Then  No.  5  was  on  his  feet  again,  and  caught  up 
with  Harkinson.  Locking  his  arm  in  that  of  the  hypno- 
tizer, he  hurried  him  along,  and  the  shadows  of  the  river  ( 
bank  hid  them  from  our  view. 

We  turned  back,  and  I  saw  the  Rolling  Stone  wipe 
the  perspiration  from  his  forehead. 

"You're  not  warm?"  I  said. 

"Warm  as  I  ever  want  to  be,"  he  said;  "whew! 
never  did  I  see  eyes  like  that  fellow  had." 

312 


HARKINSON'S   LAST   VISIT 

"Scared  you,  did  he,  John?" 

"Scared  me  stiff,  if  I  ever  was,"  replied  the  Rolling 
Stone. 

"Well,  John,"  I  said,  "you've  been  face  to  face  with 
one  of  the  strangest  boys  you'll  ever  know  in  your  whole 
life.  He  was  second-in-line  in  the  Red  Runners,  and  he 
has  had  more  to  do  with  that  bunch  of  red  birds,  as  you 
call  'em,  than  even  Long  Tom  himself.  He  has  hypno- 
tizing eyes,  Harkinson  has — " 

"I  know  it,"  broke  in  the  Rolling  Stone,  "don't  tell 
me,  Seckatary  Hawkins;  good  Lord,  I  felt  weak  as  a  cat 
while  he  sat  there.  What's  that  makes  a  fella  feel  so 
weak—" 

"I  wish  I  knew,  John,"  I  said,  "but  all  I  know  is  that 
it's  Harkinson.  The  boys  all  know  him.  They  have  his 
number,  the  same  as  you.  He's  a  hypnotizer." 

Rolling  Stone  John  looked  at  me  for  a  full  minute; 
then  he  wiped  his  forehead  again  and  said: 

"I  guess  I'll  be  moving  along  pretty  soon,  Seckatary 
Hawkins.  You  fellas  been  mighty  nice  to  me,  but  I  guess 
I'd  better  be  on  my  way.  I'm  always  on  the  go.  And 
anyway,  I  don't  like  to  be  around  fellas  with  hyp- 
notizing eyes.  My  heart  won't  stand  it — no  sir-ree. 
Good-night,  if  you're  goin'.  I  guess  I  got  to  sleep  here 
once  more." 

I  walked  over  to  him  and  put  my  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der. 

"John  Loomis,"  I  said,  "I'm  glad  I  met  you.  I've 
had  a  lot  of  pleasure  knowing  you  just  these  few  days. 
But  I'd  have  lots  more  if  you'd  do  one  thing." 

"Say  which?"  he  asked,  with  a  careless  smile  on  his 
tanned  face. 

"Go  back  home,"  I  said;  "back  where  your  kid 
313 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

brother  is — and  the  other  folks  who  want  you.  They 
won't  say  they  do,  John,  but  they  want  you  all  the  same." 

He  lifted  my  hand  gently  from  his  shoulder. 

"You're  good,  Hawkins,"  he  said;  "I  know  you're 
all  right.  But  you  don't  understand,  see?  You  just 
let  me  alone,  and  I'll  get  there  some  day,  maybe.  Just 
now  I  ain't  wanted  no  place — but  here.  Just  you  fellas — 
you  and  your  fine  pals,  Hawkins,  want  me  and  nobody 
else  in  the  world  wants  me  at  all.  So  if  you  don't  mind — " 

"All  right,  John,"  I  said,  and  sighed. 

"Good-night,  Hawkins,  old  boy,"  he  said. 

"Good-night,  John." 

And  I  put  on  my  cap  and  buttoned  up  my  coat  collar. 
As  I  walked  up  the  path  to  the  main  road,  I  could  not 
help  thinking  of  Harkinson,  and  the  strange  way  he 
acted. 

"I  wonder  what's  wrong  with  him,"  I  said  to  myself; 
"I  bet  we  catch  him  before  many  days." 

Which  we  did. 


314 


XXXI 

The  Prayer  in  the  Log  House 

ON  MY  way  to  school  next  morning,  I  found 
Briggen,  the  Pelham  leader,  waiting  for  me  at 
the  corner. 

"I  got  to  tell  you  something,  Hawkins,"  he  said; 
and  he  had  a  worried,  frightened  look  on  his  face.  "Us 
Pelham  fellas  went  spying  on  Harkinson  and  his  rebels 
last  night." 

"Rebels?"  I  repeated. 

"Yeah,  them  what  broke  against  Long  Tom  and  went 
with  Harkinson.  They  got  a  purty  good  dugout  on 
Burney's  Field.  We  spied  on  'em  last  night,  Dave  Burns 
and  Ham  Gardner  and  me." 

"I  thought  Ham  was  afraid  to  go  near  Harkinson," 
I  said. 

"He  ain't  afraid  no  more,"  said  Briggen;  "no  use 
to  be  afraid  no  more;  Harkinson  is  turned  Christian,  the 
old  hypnotizer  has.  We  heard  him  a-praying  there  in 
his  hole  in  the  ground.  It  was  sad;  yes  sir,  Hawkins, 
praying  like  he  was  going  to  die  or  something — " 

"What!"  I  exclaimed.  "You're  telling  me  the  truth, 
Briggen?" 

"Sure  as  I'm  standing  here.  I  heard  it  myself — 
and  Dave  heard  it,  and  Ham  heard  it;  and  when  Ham 
heard  it,  he  got  his  nerve  back,  he  wasn't  afraid  of  Har- 
kinson no  more.  Now,  what  I  wants  to  know,  Hawkins, 
is  what's  the  matter  with  Harkinson — why  should  he 
pray  to  God  like  he  is  afraid  of  some  awful  thing,  and 
what  is  it  that  makes  Ham  so  brave  when  he  used  to  be 
so  scared  of  the  old  hypnotizer?" 

315 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"Go  back  and  watch  there  all  day,  Briggen,"  I  said. 
"This  afternoon  when  school  is  out  I'll  come  over  with 
some  of  our  boys.  Something  must  be  wrong — you'd 
better  go,  and,  if  anything  happens,  come  back  and  tell 
me." 

After  school  we  held  our  meeting  in  the  clubhouse, 
and  the  boys  then  went  with  their  sleds  and  skates  to 
see  the  new  sled  track  that  Jerry  Moore  and  Roy  Dobel 
had  been  bragging  about,  over  on  a  hill  near  Dobel's 
farm.  I  sat  alone  in  my  little  writing  room,  while 
Rolling  Stone  John  sat  in  his  old  place  by  the  stove 
reading  a  fairy  story  book  that  used  to  belong  to 
Frankie  Kane. 

"Hawkins!  Oh,  Seek!"  Shadow  called  from  outside. 
I  hurried  outside  and  found  him  on  the  porch. 

"Hi,  Shadow,  old  boy,"  I  said,  "what's  on  your 
mind?" 

I  held  the  door  open.  Shadow  did  not  answer  me. 
His  gaze  went  over  my  head,  into  the  clubhouse,  where 
bis  no-account  brother  John  sat  with  his  feet  upon  the 
fender  of  the  stove.  But  John  acted  as  though  he  didn't 
hear  a  word. 

"Has  he  been  here  ever  since — " 

"Ever  since  you  met  him  here,  Shadow,  "I  answered. 
"And  it  seems  like  he  might  be  here  forevermore.  I 
ain't  the  one  to  turn  him  out,  you  know  that.  He  can 
sleep  in  our  clubhouse  as  long  as  he  wants." 

Shadow  waved  his  hand. 

"Pass  him,"  he  said.  "Let's  talk  about  something 
else.  I've  got  that  ice  skooter  down  here  on  the 
river,  and  you'll  be  surprised  how  fine  those  sails  work. 
Tere's  a  stiff  wind  blowing — suppose  we  go  for  a  ride? 
I've  come  all  the  way  down  on  it." 

316 


THE   PRAYER   IN   THE    LOG   HOUSE 

Together  we  walked  down  to  the  river  bank.  The 
river  was  still  frozen  over  from  bank  to  bank.  Beside 
our  ice-locked  wharf  stood  the  most  beautiful  ice  boat 
I  ever  saw,  with  sails  so  arranged  that  it  could  quickly 
be  made  to  catch  any  wind,  forward  or  backward.  While 
I  was  telling  Shadow  how  much  I  admired  it,  I  saw 
three  boys  running  over  the  ice  to  us.  They  shouted 
to  me,  and  waved  their  hands,  and  I  saw  it  was  Briggen, 
Dave  Burns,  and  Ham  Gardner. 

"Shadow,"  I  said,  "don't  start  any  fighting  now,  I 
know  you  got  a  grudge  against  Briggen,  but  this  ain't 
the  time  to  settle  it,  old  boy." 

"All  right,"  said  Shadow  with  a  smile,  and  he  turned 
and  walked  back  a  few  feet  from  where  I  stood. 

"Hawkins,"  said  Briggen,  "something's  doing.  Four 
Red  Runners  went  back  up  the  river  this  morning  on 
skates.  Looks  like  they  left  old  Harkinson  in  the  lurch, 
gave  him  the  shake — " 

"I  got  you,"  I  said;  "I  got  you,  Briggen.  There's 
only  two  over  there  in  the  hiding  place  now — " 

"No,  there  ain't  none  there  now,"  interrupted  Brig- 
gen, "they're  all  gone — four  went  up  and  two  went  down 
the  river.  Now,  what  do  you  make  out  of  that?" 

"Only  two  went  down — you're  sure  of  that,  Briggen?" 

"Sure  as  I'm  alive." 

"No  use  me  going  over  to  Burney's  Field  then — you 
go  back  to  your  side,  Briggen,  and  wait — watch  for  the 
others,  if  they  come  back,  you  know.  Stay  on  your  side, 
will  you?" 

Briggen  promised  to  do  what  I  told  him,  and  the 
three  of  'em  went  back  to  their  side  across  the  river. 
I  was  excited.  The  very  thought  of  capturing  Harkinson 
made  me  full  of  fire.  If  four  went  up  and  two  down  the 

317 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

river,  it  was  a  cinch  that  the  two  were  hiding  in  the  log 
house  on  the  island. 

"Shadow,"  I  said,  "this  is  our  chance,  yours  and  mine. 
We  can  capture  the  hypnotizer  ourselves,  Shadow — 
don't  ask  me  why — I  know  we  can.  Will  you  go?" 

It  was  like  asking  Shadow  if  he  would  have  a  million 
dollars.  Sure  he'd  go.  And  so  we  started  for  the  island. 
I  sat  myself  in  that  forty-mile-an-hour  ice  skooter  of  his, 
and  he  gripped  the  sail  ropes,  and  oh,  boy,  we  were  off 
like  a  flash — how  we  sailed!  It  seemed  to  me  as  if 
the  wind  thought  this  little  ice  sailboat  was  its  play- 
thing, for  it  certainly  was  sailed  along  at  a  lively  clip — 
and  it  was  only  once  that  we  stopped — once  when  we 
drew  in  to  shore  and  Shadow  motioned  for  me  to  be 
silent.  I  didn't  know  what  was  coming  off  until  I  saw 
about  five  minutes  later,  a  single  solitary  Red  Runner 
pass  us,  going  up  stream  on  skates.  He  wore  No.  5 
on  his  sleeve. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Shadow,  after  No.  5  had  gone 
around  the  upper  bend,  "let's  go." 

Go  we  did.  And  we  didn't  stop  until  we  came  to 
the  island. 

"What  now,  Hawkins?"  asked  Shadow  Loomis,  as 
we  stood  before  the  log  house. 

"He's  inside,"  I  answered;  "Harkinson's  there. 
Shadow,  all  by  himself." 

Shadow  hesitated. 

"I  wish  it  were  Androfski,"  he  said,  and  he  bit  his 
lip. 

"Come  on,"  I  cried,  "it's  Harkinson,  him  with  the 
hypnotizing  eyes,  Shadow.  What  better  capture  could 
you  make — *' 

"I  know,  I  know,"  broke  in  Shadow,  "vou  fellas  have 
worked  yourselves  up  into  excitement  over  Harkinson. 

318 


THE  PRAYER  IN  THE  LOG  HOUSE 

When  I  know  Harkinson  ain't  the  one  to  be  afraid  of 
at  all.  It's  Androfski,  Hawkins,  he's  the  one  you'll 
be  taking  your  hat  off  to  when  all  is  said  and  done. 
As  for  this  Harkinson — " 

"Listen,"  I  said,  sharply. 

From  the  log  house  came  a  whimpering  sound — a 
crooning,  crying  sound — No!  Never  could  I  believe 
that  to  be  the  voice  of  Harkinson. 

"By  golly,  Shadow,"  I  said,  "some  one  else  is  in  that 
log  house.  That's  not  Harkinson 's  voice.  Listen!" 

Together  we  listened  again.  Again  came  that  croon- 
ing, that  crying — no  boy  ever  cried  like  that — 

"Oh,  God!"  it  came  to  u^over  that  silent  island  still- 
ness, "Oh,  God,  save  me  from  this,  save  me  from  this." 

Shadow  Loomis  turned  and  looked  at  me.  But 
I  could  not  look  him  in  the  face.  Something  told  me. 
Now,  I  don't  know  what  it  was  that  told  me;  I  don't 
want  you  to  ask  me  what  told  me;  because  I  don't 
know.  All  I  know  is  that  something  told  me  that  Har- 
kinson was  praying  to  God  to  save  him  from  something — 

"Have  pity  on  me,  oh  Lord — save  me — don't  let  this 
happen  to  me,  oh,  Lord — " 

Yeah,  that's  what  I  heard  coming  from  between  those 
cracks  in  the  logs  of  that  old  ramshackle  log  house. 
And  I  want  to  tell  you  right  here  that  no  matter  if  it 
was  Harkinson  or  somebody  else,  my  heart  went  out  to 
him — yeah,  oh,  boy,  I  felt  sorry  for  that  fella,  whoever 
he  was,  who  was  saying  over  and  over  to  himself,  "Oh 
Lord,  save  me  from  this." 

"For  God's  sake,  Hawkins,"  said  Shadow  Loomis. 
He  gripped  my  arm.  "For  God's  sake,  Hawkins,"  he 
repeated.  Then,  without  another  word,  he  turned  and 
ran  from  this  spot.  And  I  followed  him.  Yeah,  coward- 
like  I  followed  Shadow,  running  as  fast  as  we  could,  and 

319 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

we  did  not  stop  till  we  pulled  up  at  our  secret  headquarters, 
the  old  houseboat  that  formerly  belonged  to  the  Skinny 
Guy,  Link  Lambert  and  his  pop,  in  the  backwater  pool, 
"the  lily  pond." 

For  half  an  hour  we  sat  there,  silent,  never  looking 
at  one  another.  I  let  myself  rest.  Believe  me,  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  I  knew  that  here  was  our  chance 
to  capture  Harkinson,  one  of  the  worst  Red  Runners,  one 
that  the  Sheriff  would  be  glad  to  get,  and  yet  something 
about  his  crying  and  whimpering  and  praying  in  that 
old  log  house  made  me  afraid  to  touch  my  hand  upon  it. 

"Shadow,"  I  said,  "we  ought  to  have  taken  him." 

"You  do  it,"  said  Shadow.  "I  don't  want  to  touch 
him.  I  don't  want  anything  to  do  with  the  fella  who 
asked  God  to  have  mercy" 

"No,"  I  said.    And  then  we  both  were  silent. 

How  long  we  would  have  sat  there,  in  that  old  reminder 
of  our  Skinny  Guy,  no  one  knows.  The  next  thing  I 
remember  is  Jerry  Moore's  voice: 

"That's  Hawkins's  footprints,  take  my  word.  No- 
body but  the  Seckatary  wears  that  square-toe  shoe." 

Then  a  full  minute  of  silence.  I  could  barely  hear 
the  slush  of  their  feet  through  the  snow. 

"Ah!" 

It  was  Jerry,  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  house- 
boat. Behind  him  were  Dick  Ferris,  Lew  Hunter,  Roy 
Dobel,  Johnny  McLarren,  Bill  Darby,  and  Perry  Stokes. 
They  had  skated  down  the  frozen  river. 

"So  here  y'are,"  continued  Jerry,  "so  here  y'are, 
Hawkins,  and  you,  Shadow  Loomis.  What's  the  idea 
running  away  from  us?  Think  we  couldn't  trace  the 
tracks  o'  this  homemade  ice  boat?  Listen,  what's 
the  game  down  here?  Has  Pelham  fellas  steered  you 
wrong?" 

320 


THE  PRAYER  IN  THE  LOG  HOUSE 

"Steered  us  wrong?"  I  interrupted;  "steered  us 
wrong — Jerry,  you  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  island — 
the  block  house — " 

"A  Red  Runner's  there,  most  likely,"  said  Jerry, 
"else  you  fellas  wouldn't  a'  come  down.  Now,  listen 
here,  Hawkins,  if  there's  a  red- jacket  in  that  log  bouse, 
we're  gon'a  smoke  him  out,  see?  Makes  no  difference 
what  you  think — no  matter  if  you  are  Seckatary — 
if  it's  a  Red  Runner  he  goes  to  the  Sheriff  and  the  cala- 
boose— no  soft  hearties  for  me,  eh,  Dick?" 

"I'm  Captain,"  said  Dick,  "and  if  there's  a  Red 
Runner  hereabouts,  he's  got  to  be  taken  alive  to  the 
Sheriff." 

"Alive?"  I  said,  "all  right  then.  Dick,  you  lead. 
We  will  come  with  you." 

Honestly,  I  didn't  think  we  would  take  that  Red 
Runner  alive.  I  didn't  think  it  was  Harkinson.  The 
voice  that  Shadow  and  I  heard  did  not  sound  like  the 
voice  of  Harkinson.  It  had  been  so  changed.  I  thought 
then — 

"Who's  in  there?"  yelled  Dick  Ferris,  as  we  stood  be- 
fore the  log  house. 

No  answer.  Only  the  whimpering — only  the  croon- 
ing sound — only  that  cry-baby  voice — 

"Oh,  God,  have  mercy — save  me  from  this,  save  me 
from  this — " 

Dick  and  Jerry  stood  and  talked  together  before  the 
log-house  door.  As  we  waited,  there  came  the  sound  of 
metal  against  the  ice — we  turned  and  saw  a  skating 
figure  leap  from  the  ice  to  the  bank — it  was  Androfski — 
you  could  not  mistake  that  beak  of  a  nose  under  which 
hung  a  half-moon  smile — 

He  held  up  his  hand — he  could  not  talk — Androfski 
the  Silent. 

21  321 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

We  all  fell  aside.  We  saw  him  kick  one  skate  from 
his  foot.  The  next  instant  he  had  sprung  to  the  door, 
limping  on  one  free  foot  and  one  foot  that  still  held  a 
skate — 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  log  house.  He  stepped  in- 
side for  a  moment;  then  came  out  again,  and,  leaning 
upon  his  arm  was  Harkinson,  staring  straight  at  us, 
but  the  steely  glitter  was  gone  from  his  eyes. 

"He— is— blind!" 

I  saw  the  words  form  on  the  lips  of  Androfski  the 
Silent.  Yeah,  I  had  been  trained  to  watch  the  lips  of 
Androfski — now  he  was  saying  the  awfullest  thing  I  had 
ever  heard  him  say  in  his  silent  way — that  Harkinson, 
the  hypnotizer,  no  longer  could  see.  At  once  I  knew, 
what  those  words  meant  that  we  had  heard  coming 
from  behind  the  logs  of  the  old  stockade.  Harkinson 
was  blind.  He  could  no  longer  use  those  steely  eyes  of 
his — 

I  saw  Jerry  Moore  step  forward.  I  saw  Dick  Ferris 
lift  his  hand — 

"Seckatary  Hawkins,"  said  Dick,  "we  have  captured 
Harkinson — '* 

"I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  I  cried;  "I'll  not 
touch  him,  Dick  Ferris,  not  for  you  nor  any  of  the 
boys—" 

Androfski  was  holding  up  his  hand.  I  watched  his 
lips. 

"He — cannot — see.  Allow — me — to — take — him — 
back—" 

"Take  him  back,  Androfski,"  I  said,  patting  him  on 
the  back,  "and  take  care  of  him." 

"Look  here,  look  here,"  broke  in  Jerry  Moore, 
"you  think  you're  mighty  smart,  Hawkins,  but  we  got 

322 


323 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

a  word  to  say  in  this.  Nobody  is  gonna  take  this  Har- 
kinson  back  but  us,  see?  And  we  will  take  him  back  to 
the  Sheriff,  we  will.  That's  where  he  belongs.  What've 
you  got  to  say  to  that,  Androfski?" 

Neither  Androfski  nor  Harkhison   made  a  sound. 

"Just  one  moment!" 

A  new  voice  had  rung  in.  A  new  figure  stepped  into 
the  half  circle.  It  was  the  Rolling  Stone,  John  Loomis. 

"Fair  play,"  he  cried;  "Shame  on  you  fellas  who  don't 
give  fair  play.  I  wartf  to  see  the  first  guy  who  won't 
let  these  two  red  birds  pass  the  line." 

How  quick  Jerry  Moore  fell  back!  How  quick  the 
others  gave  room! 

"This  way !"  It  was  Shadow's  own  voice  saying  that. 
And  leading  Androfski  and  Harkinson  to  his  own  ice 
skooter — 

We  took  them  up  to  our  clubhouse.  Yeah,  Harkin- 
son, blind  Harkinson,  lay  in  our  clubhouse  at  last  a 
prisoner,  if  you  want  to  call  him  that,  but  none  of  us 
fellas  thought  so.  No.  We  wanted  him  to  get  his  eye- 
sight back.  That's  all.  Makes  no  difference  what  he  was, 
or  what  he  did  to  us,  now  he  was  a  blind  boy — something 
always  was  wrong  with  his  eyes,  that's  what  Doc  Waters 
said,  and  it  was  this  that  made  us  always  think  he  was  a 
hypnotizer.  It  was  the  Rolling  Stone  who  insisted  on 
taking  him  to  our  clubhouse  until  something  could 
be  done  for  him.  And  Perry  Stokes  went  and  brought 
Doc  Waters  down.  There,  on  the  Rolling  Stone's  pallet 
on  the  floor  beside  my  desk,  we  laid  him  down  while  Doc 
Waters  looked  into  his  eyes — those  eyes  that  had  often 
made  us  shiver  when  they  peeped  at  us — but  now  no 
longer  could  see. 

When  Doc  had  finished  the  examination,  Androfski 
was  gone.  None  of  the  boys  had  seen  him  go.  But 

324 


THE  PRAYER  IN  THE  LOG  HOUSE 

Androfski  had  waited  only  until  he  knew  his  side  partner 
was  safe — then  he  had  skooted  out  into  his  own  freedom. 
He  knew  the  Sheriff  wanted  him  and  he  was  not  going  to 
let  anybody  take  him  prisoner.  Doc  Waters  promised 
to  see  that  Harkinson  was  taken  care  of,  and  the  boys 
all  left,  one  by  one,  for  their  homes. 

When  we  were  left  alone,  Doc  said  to  me: 

"Hawkins,  you've  known  this  boy  Harkinson  for  a 
long  time?" 

"Yes,  Doc,"  I  said,  "ever  since  last  summer;  I  met 
him  when  I  came  home  from  Cuba." 

"And  he  always  had  these — what  you  call  hypno- 
tizing eyes?" 

"Yes,  Doc,  that's  what  made  us  boys  so  afraid  of 
him." 

Doc  shook  his  head. 

"Poor  fella,"  he  said;  "and  he  was  growing  blind 
all  the  time.  I  never  saw  a  case  like  it  in  my  whole  life." 

Rolling  Stone  John  stepped  up. 

"I  can  look  after  him  a  while,  doctor,"  he  said; 
"if  you  want  to  go  back — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Doc;  "you  let  him  stay  here  until 
tonight.  He  must  go  to  the  hospital  at  once.  I  will  see 
to  that.  To-night  you  boys  bring  him  to  my  office." 

Which  we  did. 


325 


XXXII 

The  Roundup 

HARKINSON  was  gone.  Doc  Waters  had  got 
a  permit  for  him  in  one  of  the  finest  hospitals 
in  Water-town.  He  was  stone  blind.  For  a 
long  time  his  eyes  had  been  failing  him,  Doc  said,  and 
that  steely  glitter  which  had  so  many  times  made  us 
believe  he  was  a  hypnotizer  was  only  the  change  that 
was  making  his  sight  dimmer  and  dimmer,  until  at  last 
the  light  went  out  altogether.  Harkinson  knew,  those 
last  few  days,  that  he  was  going  blind.  And  Jude,  the 
fifth  in  line,  told  him  only  God  could  save  him  from 
being  blind,  and  Harkinson — old  rough-and-ready 
Harkinson — began  to  pray  night  and  day  to  God  to 
save  him  from  blindness.  Harkinson,  who  hardly  knew 
how  to  pray,  began  to  pray — Oh !  I'll  never  forget  how 
I  heard  him  calling  to  God  that  day  when  we  had  him 
cornered  in  the  log  cabin. 

But  Jude  the  Fifth  had  disappeared.  Androfski 
had  disappeared.  No  longer  could  they  dare  to  hang 
around  our  neighborhood.  For  when  the  split  came  be- 
tween Long  Tom  and  Harkinson,  Jude  the  Fifth  and 
Androfski  the  Silent  had  stuck  to  Harkinson,  along  with 
three  others.  But  the  three  others  had  left  Harkinson 
in  the  lurch  when  they  found  he  was  going  blind — no 
blind  leader  for  them.  No,  sir.  They  had  run  back  to 
join  Long  Tom's  bunch  again.  So  had  Androfski.  But 
when  Jude  came  and  told  Androfski  that  Harkinson  had 
really  gone  blind,  and  was  left  alone  in  the  blockhouse 
Androfski  had  come  to  give  his  old  side  partner  the  last 
help  he  could  give.  And  when  he  was  sure  that  Harkin- 

326 


THE    ROUNDUP 

son  would  be  taken  care  of,  Androfski  had  disappeared. 
So  had  Jude.  No  more  did  we  see  of  either  of  them, 
although  Shadow  Loomis  looked  for  a  long  time  for 
the  Silent  One,  to  settle  that  long-standing  quarrel  that 
they  had  between  them.  But  it  seemed  as  though  it 
should  not  be  settled. 

Most  of  this  we  learned  through  Perry  Stokes, 
who  had  gone  with  Doc  Waters  when  they  took 
Harkinson  to  the  hospital.  Perry  had  talked  to  Har- 
kinson,  and  had  learned  all  these  things  from  him. 
Harkinson  was  a  different  boy,  said  Perry.  In  that  land 
of  everlasting  night,  Harkinson  lay  back  upon  his  pillow 
and  thought  about  old  times,  times  when  he  had  his  sight, 
and  when  he  made  every  boy  afraid  to  look  him  in  the 
eye;  when  he  had  been  the  leader  of  a  large  number  of 
redcoats,  and  shared  honors  with  Long  Tom  himself. 
But  of  the  quarrel  which  caused  the  split-up  in  the  Red 
Runners,  Harkinson  never  spoke.  One  thing,  at  least, 
you  must  say  of  Harkinson;  he  was  true  blue  to  his  part- 
ners, and  he  never  squealed.  No  matter  what  you  might 
say  about  the  Red  Runners,  you  will  have  to  admit  that 
not  a  single  one  of  'em  ever  squealed  on  their  gang. 

And,  then,  one  night — I'll  never  forget  it — it  was  on 
January  27,  Doc  Waters  came  for  me.  I  was  at  home, 
doing  my  lessons  for  the  next  day,  when  Doc  came. 
My  mother  opened  the  door  for  him. 

"If  you  won't  mind,  Mrs.  Hawkins,"  he  said,  "I'd 
like  to  have  the  Seckatary  go  along  with  me  to-night 
— I've  got  to  take  a  run  to  Watertown." 

"Certainly,  doctor,"  said  my  mother,  "I  like  to 
have  him  go  with  you  whenever  you  want  him — I 
hope  he  will  not  make  you  too  much  trouble — " 

"It's  a  pleasure,  Mrs.  Hawkins,"  said  Doc  (Doc 
always  tried  to  say  things  like  that  so  I  would  hear  it; 

327 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

he  was  a  great  kidder).  "I'd  rather  have  the  Seckatary 
along  with  me  than  any  boy  in  town." 

When  I  was  seated  beside  Doc  in  his  little  machine, 
and  we  were  making  thirty  miles  an  hour  on  the  road  to 
Watertown,  I  said: 

"What's  the  idea?    Why  did  you  come  for  me?" 

"I  got  a  request,"  he  answered;  "I  was  asked  to  bring 
you.  Wait,  you'll  understand." 

Yeah,  I  understood.  I  seemed  to  know  that  he 
would  take  me  to  that  hospital  in  which  lay  the  fellow 
who  one  time  was  the  only  boy  I  was  afraid  to  meet. 
Harkinson  lay  back  upon  a  little  white  cot — 

"You — is  it  you,  Hawkins  boy?"  he  asked,  as  I 
walked  up  to  his  bed.  His  voice  sounded  strange  and 
low.  His  hand  barely  lifted. 

"It's  me,  Harkinson,"  I  said;  and  I  tried  to  make  my 
voice  sound  friendly;  "it's  me,  old-timer,  I'm  glad  to 
see  you." 

"I'm  glad  you  come — they  told  me  you  would  come — 
sorry  I  can't  see  your  old  face  again — but  it's  all  over, 
that  is.  Wait." 

He  dropped  my  hand,  and  laid  his  own  upon  his 
forehead.  I  saw  a  look  of  pain  pass  over  his  pale  face. 
What  a  change  in  that  face,  thought  I.  Once  I  had  said 
Harkinson's  face  was  the  hardest,  toughest  face  I  had 
ever  seen.  Now  it  was  all  changed ;  there  was  a  softened 
look  about  his  eyes;  his  lips  seemed  thin  and  pale — 

"They  won't  tell  me  the  truth,  Hawkins,"  he  said, 
"they  say  I  will  get  well  and  see  again.  But  I  know — 
I  ain't  long  for  this  world  no  more;  I'm  going  down  a 
longer  river  than  I  ever  paddled  before,  Hawkins,  and 
I  ain't  goin'  to  wear  no  red  coat  no  'more — feel  here — 

He  pulled  my  hand  down  and  placed  it  on  his  breast. 
328 


THE    ROUNDUP 

Under  those  coverlets  I  could  feel  the  loud,  fast  thumping 
of  his  heart.  It  startled  me. 

"Heart  going  too  fast,"  said  Harkinson,  "can't 
stand  it  no  longer  without  my  eyes,  y'know.  Got  to 
see  or  can't  live.  I  won't  be  long." 

"Nonsense,"  I  said,  "you  mustn't  talk  like  that, 
Harkinson.  Doc  will  see  you  through.  It's  going  to 
take  time,  that's  all." 

There  was  a  grim  smile  upon  his  face,  but  he  shook  his 
head. 

"It's  over,"  he  said;  "I  know;  I've  called  my  redcoats 
for  the  last  time,  Hawkins.  I  only  want  to  tell  you  yet 
that  I  am  sorry  for  what  I  did  to  you;  you  been  a  square 
an'  honest  boy  with  me,  and  I  treated  you  raw.  I'm 
sorry  for  that — before  I  go,  I  want  to  tell  you.  You  be- 
lieve me?" 

"You've  never  done  anything  to  me,  old-timer,"  I 
said,  bending  down;  "you've  been  all  right;  it's  all 
fair  when  you're  fighting — ' 

"I  used  to  think  that,"  broke  in  the  blind  boy; 
"but,  no,  it  ain't  so,  Hawkins.  You  find  that  out 
when  you  git  time  to  think  about  it.  I've  been  thinking 
about  it  ever  since  the  long  night  time  came — and  it's 
dark  where  I  am,  no  daytime,  no  light,  Hawkins — " 

"But  it  wTon't  be  for  long,  Harkinson,"  I  said;  "Doc 
Waters  will  fix  you  up  all  right,  buddy — " 

"Just  one  thing,"  said  Harkinson,  "I  want  you  to 
have  something,  Hawkins.  I  know  I  ain't  goin'  to  last — 
I  want  you  to  remember  me  always  when  I'm  gone — " 

"Don't  talk  like  that,  Harkinson,"  I  said,  "you're 
going  to  get  well,  and  see  again,  in  a  little  while.  Don't 
you  know  good  old  Doc  Waters  can  do  things?" 

"He  can't  fix  this  heart  o'  mine,"  said  Harkinson, 
329 


with  a  smile;  "it's  broke — beating  faster  that  a  wood- 
pecker can  peck — and  harder  than  a  sledge  hammer — 
but  here,  Hawkins,  this  is  for  you  to  remember  me  by." 

He  reached  a  weak  hand  under  his  pillow  and  pulled 
out  the  old  brass  horn — the  old  relic  of  Stoner's  Boy — 
the  old  trumpet  whose  brassy  notes  had  sounded  a 
summons  and  a  warning  many  a  time  around  our  old 
camping  ground. 

"To  remember  me,  Hawkins,"  he  said,  "I  don't  care 
who  forgets — but  you  remember  me  always,  will  you?" 

I  took  the  horn.  Yeah,  I  took  it,  but  I  could  not 
thank  him  for  it.  I  could  not  say  a  word.  I  had  to 
turn  away.  For  something  about  that  poor  old  Harkin- 
son  lying  there  made  tears  come  into  my  eyes,  and  I 
walked  away  and  wiped  my  eyes  on  my  sleeve.  I  stood 
there,  a  long  time,  until  Doc  came  tip-toeing  over  and 
said,  "He  is  asleep;  come  on,  let's  get  back  home." 

Our  clubhouse  still  was  watched  by  Long  Tom's 
Red  Runners.  They  didn't  seem  to  mind  Harkinson's 
misfortune.  I  don't  think  they  cared  one  bit  that  he 
was  not  with  them  any  more.  Jerry  Moore  came  hi  one 
night  following  and  told  us  that  he  had  been  caught  by 
two  of  them,  but  that  he  had  broken  away  from  them. 
Another  night  Lew  Hunter  was  playing  the  organ  all 
alone  in  the  clubhouse,  and  they  had  scared  him  at  the 
windows. 

It  was  time  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  So  we  held  a  council 
meeting  in  the  clubhouse  after  school  one  day,  and  tried 
to  figure  out  a  plan  to  catch  them.  Nothing  came  of 
it,  however.  One  plan  after  another  was  thrown  aside, 
because  it  wouldn't  do.  After  the  meeting  broke  up,  I 
sat  alone  in  my  little  office  and  thought  it  over.  Sud- 
enly  an  idea  came  into  my  head. 

330 


THE    ROUNDUP 

That  evening  I  had  all  my  plans  laid.  I  hurried  down 
to  the  clubhouse  right  after  supper.  None  of  the  boys 
had  come  yet.  Presently  I  heard  voices  outside.  It 
was  Lew  Hunter  and  the  preacher,  with  whom  he  lived. 
They  came  in  together. 

"Ah,  Seckatary  Hawkins,"  said  the  preacher,  for 
he  was  a  good  friend  of  us  boys;  "I  hope  you  have  found 
it  in  your  heart  to  forgive  poor  Harkinson." 

"Forgive  him?    What  for?"  I  asked. 

"He's  doing  very  poorly,"  said  the  preacher;  "Dr. 
Waters  has  asked  me  to  go  up  and  console  him  a  bit, 
and  I'm  on  my  way  to  Watertown  now.  May  I  take  a 
message  of  good  cheer  from  you?  It  will  do  him  much 
good  to  know  it  comes  from  you;  the  doctor  tells  me  he 
speaks  of  you  every  day." 

"Tell  him,"  I  said,  "tell  him  that  Seckatary  Hawkins 
wishes  him  all  that  is  good — and  hopes  only  that  the 
daylight  will  soon  come  to  him  as  it  does  to  us — every 
morning  he  will  see  the  sunrise." 

"Ah,  that  is  nice,  nice,"  said  the  preacher.  "Good- 
bye." 

We  waited  until  his  step  died  out  in  the  snow.  Then 
I  said  to  Lew: 

"Did  you  take  my  message  to  the  Sheriff?" 

"Yes,  everything  is  fixed.  They  are  waiting  now 
outside  the  second  row  of  trees.  They  thought  you  were 
crazy  to  ask  them  to  do  it." 

"Oh,  well,  maybe  I  am,"  I  said,  "I  ain't  sure  that  it 
will  do  any  good.  But  I've  got  a  scheme.  It  might 
work." 

"And  I  told  the  other  boys  to  wait  on  the  main  road 
till  they  heard  something.  They  asked  me  what  that 
'something'  would  be,  so  they  would  know.  But  1  told 
them  just  as  you  ordered  me." 

331 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

"That's  right,  Lew.  They'll  know  well  enough,  as 
soon  as  they  hear  it.  Suppose  you  play  a  tune  on  the 
organ,  so  that  somebody  knows  we  are  here." 

Lew  played.  The  same  old  thing  he  always  played 
when  you  asked  him  to  play  what  he  liked.  "Lead, 
Kindly  Light,  Amid  th'  Encircling  Gloom." 

How  it  sounded  to  me  then.  Ah,  boy!  I  heard  it 
many  times,  played  in  the  same  way  by  that  same  Lew 
Hunter,  and  every  time  it  seemed  to  mean  something 
different  to  me.  To  me  always  it  was  a  prayer — a  prayer 
to  God  Almighty  to  lead  us  the  right  way,  no  matter  where 
we  were  bound  for;  a  prayer  to  take  us  on  and  see  us 
through. 

And  what  it  meant  for  the  Red  Runners  that  night? 
"Lead,  Kindly  Light"  rang  for  those  Red  Runners,  too, 
that  night.  For  I  know  that  from  that  night  on,  nine 
out  of  every  ten  of  those  redcoats  changed  from  their 
lawless  ways  to  ways  that  would  lead  them  on  to  better 
boys  and  better  men  when  they  grew  up.  Yeah,  "Lead, 
Kindly  Light"  was  the  right  song;  Lew  Hunter  knew 
what  he  was  playing.  Like  a  flame  on  the  tip  of  a  candle 
which  draws  insects  in  the  night,  that  song  drew  those 
Red  Runners  from  out  their  hiding  places — I  could  see 
out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  once  in  a  while  a  face  appear 
for  a  moment  at  this  window — at  that  window— only 
to  disappear  again  into  the  gloom.  If  I  could  only  draw 
them  inside,  as  I  planned — if  they  would  only  forget 
that  Harkinson — 

"Now!"  I  said — "it's  time,  Lew.  Stop  the  organ  a 
minute." 

He  snatched  his  fingers  off  the  ivory  keys.  At  the 
same  time  I  whipped  out  of  my  pocket  the  old  brass 
horn  that  Harkinson  had  given  me — snatched  it  out  and 
put  it  to  my  lips  and  blew  two  shrill  blasts  upon  it; 

332 


333 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

then,  as  Lew  Hunter  ran  to  the  door  and  threw  it  open 
wide,  I  blew  once  again  two  hearty  calls — 

They  came.  Golly  Moses,  how  they  came!  And 
if  you  think  their  crowd  was  made  smaller  by  the  split-up 
between  Harkinson  and  Long  Tom,  you're  mistaken. 
They  came  in,  I  tell  you,  like  a  swarm  of  bees — they 
had  been  hanging  around  outside,  waiting  for  something 
to  happen,  and  when  they  heard  the  call  of  that  old 
brass  horn — well,  it  was  only  force  of  habit,  you  might 
say,  but  they  trooped  in.  In  a  minute  they  had  realized 
their  blunder — Long  Tom's  voice  reminded  them  that 
Harkinson  and  his  horn  no  longer  belonged  to  them — 
but  it  was  too  late.  Long  Tom  screamed  his  orders — 
but  what  use?  The  Sheriff  and  his  deputies  were  on  the 
porch,  at  every  window — there  was  no  escape. 

"Long  Tom,"  droned  the  Sheriff,  "you  and  your 
friends  will  come  with  me." 

The  Red  Runners  were  rounded  up. 

We  had  a  little  celebration  in  the  clubhouse  after 
they  were  taken  away.  All  of  our  boys  had  heard  the 
horn,  and  knew  that  that  was  the  "something"  I  had 
told  them  they  would  hear  before  they  were  to  come  to 
the  clubhouse.  As  it  was,  they  all  arrived  in  time  to 
see  the  Sheriff  and  his  men  march  the  red  gang  away. 

"Stand  up  and  shout  three  cheers  for  your  old  Seck- 
atary!"  yelled  Jerry  Moore. 

They  jumped  to  their  feet  and  gave  me  the  three 
loudest  hurrahs  I  had  ever  heard.  I  laughed  and  bowed, 
and  held  up  the  old  brass  horn. 

"Don't  cheer  for  me,"  I  said,  "give  the  credit  to 
this  old  brass  horn — and  to  the  old  hypnotizer  who  gave 
it  to  me — Harkinson." 

334 


THE    ROUNDUP 

'Three  cheers  for  Harkinson!"  cried  Jerry. 

But  there  were  no  cheers.  No.  No  cheers.  For 
he  had  no  more  than  said  that  when  the  door  opened  and 
the  preacher  walked  slowly  into  our  meeting  room. 

"Boys,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice;  then  he  stopped, 
and  took  off  his  hat  and  looked  at  the  floor;  for  a  min- 
ute he  stood  that  way.  Then  he  lifted  his  face  and  said : 

"He  won't  want  cheers — rather  your  prayers.  Har- 
kinson— your  friend  Harkinson — died  at  seven  o'clock 
to-night." 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  silence  in  which  you  could 
have  heard  the  breeze  rustle  in  the  evergreen  cedars  on 
the  river  path.  The  next  instant  every  boy  had  snatched 
off  his  cap,  and  bowed  his  head.  I  wondered  then,  what 
was  going  through  their  minds.  But  I  knew  it  was  sor- 
row— sympathy  for  the  old-time  leader — regret  that  the 
old  hypnotizer  could  not  have  lived  to  see  the  time 
when — 

Ah,  but  what's  the  use  to  talk  about  that?  What's  the 
use  to  say  it  might  have  been  when  it  can't  be.  You  ask 
me  to  write  down  here  things  that  I  can't  figure  out.  I 
don't  want  to  think  of  Harkinson  passing  out  like  that. 
God  called  him  home.  His  eyes  went  blank  and  his 
heart  swelled  up  and  broke  from  worrying  over  it,  don't 
tell  me.  I  felt  like  crying  myself  when  the  preacher  said 
those  soft-toned  words — 

I  sometimes  sit  in  my  little  office  and  think  about 
that — wonder  how  it  was  that  all  of  us  boys,  who  hated 
Harkinson  as  any  boy  can  hate  another  boy,  felt  so 
sad  about  his  passing  out  of  this  life  into  the  Great 
Dark  Land  that  some  fellows  like  the  preacher  call 
the  next  world — but  I  can't  figure  it  out.  I  know  that 
the  old  brass  horn  will  stay  with  me  as  long  as  I  live, 

335 


THE    RED    RUNNERS 

and  that  I  will  always  think  of  it,  and  the  boy  who  gave 
it  to  me,  as  among  the  dearest  things  I  ever  had  to 
think  about. 

"If  you  boys  feel  like  you  want  to,"  the  preacher 
was  saying,  "let  us  all  kneel  right  here,  in  the  little  club- 
house where  Harkinson  so  often  stood,  and  pray  for  the 
repose  of  his  soul." 

Which  we  did. 


886 


A    00011023 


